Gone Girl
by Kadyn
Summary: Ranger comes back from being 'in the wind' to learn there's a manhunt on for Stephanie Plum who's been missing for four months. When he learns she's on video surveillance the day before she disappeared stealing thousands from his company and that his daughter Julie is also gone Ranger has to wonder if he ever knew her at all? Babe & Julie HEA? (No relation to the book)
1. Chapter 1

**Ratings:** Rated M for Mature content; mostly for language, mild violence, and later for sexual situations between consenting adults.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own these characters and I make no profit from their use. Story does not reflect the book 'Gone Girl' by Gillian Flynn in any way except the title—It was the perfect title for this story and so catchy I couldn't resist borrowing it, no infringement intended!

**Notes:** Definitely a BABE story, probably not terrible to Joe but he's not much more than a minor character in this story so if you're looking for Cupcake fan-service you might want to search elsewhere! ; )

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**Chapter One**

_RPOV_

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He was exhausted. Not just in the physical sense, but mentally as well, spiritually—Hell however you wanted to coin it. Ricardo Carlos Manoso was ready to be done. One hundred and forty-three days on assignment. Almost five freaking months in that god-forsaken hell-hole. Rarely had he had an assignment run so long, this particular mission had required deep intel, and deep cover in one of the least friendly and accessible places on the planet he'd ever had the displeasure of visiting and he wondered if he'd ever get all the sand out of his boots. Fuck it. Ranger reasoned. He would just throw those fucking things out. He didn't need his 'lucky boots' anymore because he was done with this shit, thank god. No more missions for him, his contract was up; he wasn't signing again—he didn't care how hard his handler leaned on him. The fucking leach could lean all he wanted. He was done. End of story.

All he wanted was to go home to Trenton see his Babe Stephanie, God he'd missed her the last few months, and then he'd take some time in Miami so he could see his daughter Julie. He'd missed so much of her life before the whole Scrog incident, and now that his contract was finally up he'd promised himself he wouldn't miss any more.

He was going to work something out with Rachel, hopefully she'd let him take a bigger part in his daughters life—even if she didn't have to, legally. They'd always managed a pretty civil rapport, he'd just have to talk to her he reasoned, ask her to let him do more. He needed this, he needed her, well them; Julie and Stephanie both; they made him better. They made him feel like a real person—they made him feel like he could possibly be whole again. Amazing that just a few months before the Scrog fiasco he hadn't even realized just how broken he was. It was amazing what staring down the barrel of a gun and realizing you might lose the two most important people in your life could do to one's psyche.

He exited the plane onto the tarmac, the engines still idling at a dull roar behind him. His ass was numb, his lower back was killing him, the back of his throat and tongue still felt like he had half a desert in his mouth and the bullet wound that was still healing in his shoulder ached like a bitch. Fucking cargo planes, thank god he never had to spend another eleven hours in a jump seat ever again. The thought almost made him smile—almost.

Tank was waiting for him next to his usual debriefing welcome-wagon, which was unusual to say the least. Ranger felt his stomach tighten into a tense knot. Tank's face was grim, the other man's mouth set in a hard line, his eyes guarded. It was the face his friend of many years and service together usually wore at the start of a dangerous and difficult covert mission—not the face he wore when he came back alive and well.

The bag on his shoulder shifted and he grit his teeth against the flash of nauseating pain that washed over him. Well enough at least.

He didn't hesitate taking in his friends grim look, he was a soldier—and not just any soldier, one of the elite. He'd seen more than most men, been through more, he'd killed and almost been killed, he'd been threatened, tortured, and seen the same happen to those he served with—not on this mission thank god. Other than the bullet he'd taken during the final take-down of the mission the last five months had been so mind-numbingly boring he'd barely refrained from losing his mind. Too many hours in the day and night to think about home and all he'd left behind—everyone he'd left behind, or more specifically someone. The longing he felt to be done with that mess and back home was enough some nights to drive him to damn near jump-ship. But his past and his training had left him a hardened man, capable of dealing with any tactical situation he was thrown into, he had to in order to survive and assure mission success.

"Tank," Ranger greeted his brother in arms when he was close enough before the big man could speak first. Tank's mouth tightened once more but before he could speak the man next to him interrupted.

"Mr. Manoso," Ranger eyed the man from closer, cheap suit—not police detective cheap, but close. The man stood spine ram-rod straight, his hard eyes spoke of possible military service and the firm shake of his outstretched hand furthered the impression—but he didn't salute for which Ranger was grateful. He was so over that shit, right now he wanted to know what the Hell was going on not have his ass powdered by some cheap suit.

"My name is Greg Fuller Mr. Manoso, Welcome back. I hate to launch right into this but we've been trying to contact you for months—unfortunately due to the nature of your mission that was impossible."

Ranger felt his face harden, his eyes flicked to Tank's blank expression once more. What the hell was going on? Who the Hell was this guy?

"I work for the FBI Mr. Manoso," Fuller answered his question in the next second and Ranger felt his spine stiffen drawing himself back just a bit. The FBI? The Fuck was the FBI doing meeting him on the runway? He'd been out of the country for the last five fucking months on official military orders—even if they were classified, what the Hell could they possibly want with him now?

Unless…Oh Dios Mios, no! Bile washed up the back of his throat and he saw Tanks expression falter for a split second, his chin dropping in the tiniest of nods. "Stephanie? What happened to Stephanie Tank?"

"Mr. Manoso that's what we're trying to figure out."

She was missing? He felt his heart clench in his chest.

"We need to know if you had any contact with Ms. Plum in the last four months." Fuller asked.

"I was on assignment," Ranger snarled. _What the fuck was going on?_ His eyes flicked to Tank once more taking in his friends hardened expression.

"Of course Mr. Manoso. I had to ask." Fuller inclined his head before drawing in a tight breath. "I don't know how to say this exactly and it won't be easy to hear no matter how I word it. I'm leading the task force responsible for locating Ms. Plum."

_Task force?_ "Stephanie was kidnapped?" What the Hell were they standing around for?

"No, Mr. Manoso. We have a federal warrant for the arrest of Stephanie Michelle Plum for kidnapping and endangering a minor, as well as several counts of grand theft, and grand larceny in the second degree."

He was stunned. There had to be some mistake, this had to be some kind of joke. Ranger was not amused.

"Kidnapping of who?" He demanded a hard edge to his voice and posture.

"Your biological daughter Mr. Manoso, Julia Rachelle Martine."

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Feedback?


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **_Not mine._

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**Chapter Two**

_RPOV_

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Ranger sat at the head of the conference table hands steepled in front of him eyes roving over the papers and files set before him on the dark wood. There had to be some mistake. Something _they_ missed. Something _he_ missed. Something, _anything_ to make this make sense! He'd been back for two weeks, but it felt like two years. Ranger felt even more tired than he had stepping off the plane. He was more exhausted then he ever remembered being in his whole God Damn life.

The reports, the paper work, the photos, the video. There was no doubt when you looked at the facts, the evidence mounted in front of him, no doubt except for what was in his heart, and even that seemed to be waning when faced with the hard cold facts. God how he wanted to wake up from this nightmare. How could she do this to him? Lifting his eyes to the wall Ranger's gaze swept of the boards and photos, the timelines and search grids spanning first Miami, and Trenton, then all of Florida and New Jersey before branching out to include the entire United States and Mexico, now they were looking into southern Canada.

_What the fuck was she thinking?_ Rage and pain clawed through his gut as he once again sifted through the pieces before him. Always the same question rolling around in his desperate mind, _Why?_

200,000 dollars in cash, and his Daughter. Everything they'd had on hand in the safe room in the building—cash they kept on hand for certain assignments like hostage negotiations or drug busts. Real cash, not cut newspaper wrapped in a few real bills. It was practically nothing compared to what he had in his own account—and in his business account. The Federal Warrant read Grand Larceny in the second degree for the amount she'd walked out with, but the best part was that his men were so used to Stephanie doing whatever she needed to do that they'd seen her walk right into the vault room, fill the bag with cash, take two unregistered 'throw away' Glocks (a 9mm and a 22 probably for her ankle holster) and let her walk right out of the building. Hal had even held the damn elevator for her with his hand and waved her good night as she took the blasted thing down to the garage and drove out into the night.

Nine hours later the control room had received a call from the Miami office that Julie Martine had been reported missing—kidnapped during a school field trip to the science museum.

There'd been no ransom note, no demands—silence. The security camera from outside the museum clearly showed a woman her face hidden under a very familiar Navy Seals Cap wearing non-descript jeans and a t-shirt and carrying a large bag taking Julie's hand on the sidewalk and both of them getting into a rental car, Julie had walked right to her—it was obvious they knew each other.

The rental car had been abandoned several blocks away and from there they'd apparently boarded a local city bus, switching lines several times bouncing through the city seemingly at random before the Miami-Dade county police had simply lost their trail. Like smoke, like the wind…They'd simply disappeared off the face of the earth.

That was one hundred and thirty-six days ago. The day counter in the corner of the largest board showed the accurate count—the room was all but abandoned, in the beginning Tank told him over half his men had crammed into the conference room working elbow to elbow. Phone calls, back-ground checks, records, recordings, bank records, interviews—his men had busted down more doors then the police and chased down every possible lead when they first heard the news.

They didn't want to believe it Tank told him, none of them. But the more the evidence piled up, the harder it got.

Even when the Federal warrants were first issued Tank told him, everyone's first reaction had been outrage—how could they pin this on Bomber? There was no way she'd kidnap Julie or do anything to hurt Ranger, there had to be another player—something else going on. But days stretched into weeks, and then weeks to months…and there was still no word, no hints, no communication—no explanations.

Slowly the men began to question themselves and their belief in who Stephanie really was, the evidence was irrefutable—she'd walked right out the door with over 200 grand, was clearly displayed on camera walking hand in hand with her Julie, and then there were the phone calls, emails and text messages recovered from both their cell phones accounts and computers. They'd been talking for months—ever since the Scrog incident. Ranger had known Julie and Stephanie were in contact, they'd formed a bond during their ordeal; how could they not? None of the emails or texts mentioned anything about leaving together, there had been no obvious plans to slip away that day.

The most damning had been the text messages and the reported phone conversations that according to police and Rangeman report alike went on between Ron Martine and Stephanie days before she disappeared telling her to have no further contact with his daughter Julie.

What other choice did they have but to believe then Stephanie Plum stole easy and untraceable cash and then whisked away the daughter of a multimillionaire to hold for ransom? It seemed no one was infallible when it came to greed and corruption, not even his former Babe.

Ranger slammed his fists down on the desk. _No_. If this was about money why had there been no ransom? No demands? 200,000 was piddly cash, chump change, _nothing_ compared to what he'd be willing to pay to get Julie back, Stephanie would know that better than anyone. He was missing something, he had to be.

Ranger was rubbing his palms tiredly over his unshaven cheeks when he heard the heavy wooden door of the conference room open with a muted click. "What?" He asked resignedly not bothering to open his eyes.

"Um, Ric."

Ranger opened his eyes at that to find Lester standing in the open doorway—the other man looking just as tired and haunted as he felt. Tank said of all the men who tried to solve the case while he was in the wind Lester had hung on the longest, he'd refused to believe it until the very end. It looked like the knowledge, the loss of faith in Stephanie had destroyed him. Hell, if Ranger was honest with himself it seemed Stephanie's outright betrayal of the men who'd come to view her as the light to their darkness—their little sister, friend and angel had destroyed them all. They were haunted shells, empty, angry, lost. He never realized just how much she'd meant to his men, he should have, now it was too late, he'd been fooled just like the rest of them. How could he have been so blind?

"What is it Les?" Even his voice sounded tired, he couldn't bother to work up the effort to make the words sound like anything but what they were; defeat.

"We, got a video package, it's addressed to you."

His heart nearly stopped and he had to close his eyes and breathe for a tense moment, this was it. This was what she'd been waiting for—for him to come home so she could send the ransom.

"Son of a BITCH!" Papers, pens and a laptop flew off the table, the later shattering against the dark paneled conference wall with an echoing crash sending one of the dry erase boards above it clattering to the floor. Les just waited silently for him in the doorway, no reaction to his boss and friend's anger, his eyes far away and empty, his posture deflated.

It must be bad then, this was it, Ranger realized walking away from the overturned chair he didn't even remember springing from in his outburst. This was the final nail in the coffin that was his love. She'd betrayed him in the worst possible way—if she'd wanted money, needed it, all she had to do was ask and it was hers. No price—God how many times had he told her those words? _Willed_ her to understand what he was saying—_really _saying each time he said those words.

No price, Babe—_I love you, take anything you need, it's yours_. But he was wrong. God, was he ever wrong.

There was a price. And it was too much.

He left the destroyed lap top and papers on the carpet where they fell—they didn't matter, someone else could pick them up. The lap top was hardly a loss. All the videos and photos were backed up on the Rangemen central computers, and saved personally to damn near every computer in the office, practically every Rangeman he employed had tried and failed to make sense of the mess they were left with—tried to clear her name, to find her, find Julie and found zilch.

The core team plus a the guys on monitor duty were waiting for him in the monitor room where the DVD had obviously been sent on delivery to the building for inspection and processing as was SOP. Bobby, Hector and Cal all sat in office chairs crowded in front of the main view screen, which was blank at the moment—blue, paused he realized at the beginning of a message, posed ready to rip what little was left of his heart. Lester entered the room behind him, and quietly shut the door. Privacy, like that mattered now. Tank slid a rolling chair towards him with one foot from his position near the wall, his arms crossed tightly over his chest face a carefully schooled expression of disinterest when he was anything but.

"Have you watched it?" He felt himself ask, unable to take the chair, unable to take his eyes off the blank screen wondering what he was about to see. If that screen lifted to an image of Stephanie demanding money for his daughter he would be a dead man—not physically perhaps. No, not at first, he would live, he would do whatever he had to in order to retrieve his child. But inside he knew he would not survive, the last bit of light in his soul would be lost.

"Just enough to confirm what it was, and that it wasn't a hoax." Cal informed him his voice pained. That must be why Hector was here, checking the coding on the DVD, ensuring it hadn't been tampered with, that it was the real deal. No one wanted to risk showing a fake to the boss when he was so close to the edge.

"Boss," Tank's hand landed on his shoulder and Ranger felt himself flinch slightly—he hadn't even heard the mountain of a man move up behind him. "You want to sit for this." His friend ordered.

Oh Dios, his hands shook as he gripped the back of the chair leaning against the frame but still standing.

"Play it." He snarled steeling himself for the worst things he could imagine, things that turned his stomach and made acid burn at the back of his throat.

Cal and Bobby were staring past him at Tank, waiting he realized for some confirmation, the fuck?! He was in charge here wasn't he? "Fucking play the God Damn thing!" He roared.

Cal nodded and turned back to the computer screen pressing the keys required to play the video not just on his monitor but on the large one mounted on the wall.

The blue screen disappeared and the video started, the background too white. As the camera struggled to adjust to what was obviously a large window in the background the glaring light backlit a dark figure, seated front and center in the screen washing out all her features beyond the vague shape of a woman. _Stephanie_, Ranger felt himself snarl hands gripped white knuckled against the back of his chair his rage replaced by shock a second later at familiar voice.

"Oops," The video sound played blaringly loud in the darkened room around him. A hand came up and the screen shifted, the light became less glaring, and the camera adjusted to show his daughter's face, whole and perfect and chewing her bottom lip in an expression he recognized as being one of Stephanie's nervous habits. "That's better," She announced quietly, eyes darting to the corner of the video—checking her image on a laptop screen he realized, or whatever recording device she was using.

His heart clenched in his chest, she was alive, or was when the video was taken. Course the video might have been taken in her room in Miami for all he knew, there was no date stamp, this could be old video. The bright sunlight outside the window at her back obscuring any view outside, she could be anywhere he realized his stomach falling with the thought.

He watched his daughter's perfect face and dark eyes as she stared at the camera still chewing her lip for a moment. "Jeeze, guess I should have written a speech or something," She blew out a breath and rolled her eyes up to a ceiling that was out of camera view. Muttering to herself, "Yeah cause that would help Jules, brilliant."

Part of him wanted to smile, thinking of another beautiful woman who had a habit of talking to herself, and thinking out loud before the idea sobered him once more. That same woman had betrayed him and kidnaped his daughter.

"Okay," the nervous looking Julie on the screen finally announced blowing out a deep breath again. "I'm just going to jump right in there." She rolled her eyes skyward again and sucked in another deep breath. "Guess I'll start with the obvious, my real name is Julia Rachelle Martine, but people call me Julie, Jules…" then she gave the date, the video was supposedly recorded, less than four days ago if it was true…

"After Rangeman receives this video I'm sure they'll have no choice but to send it to the police, the FBI, Hell send it to NASA if you think it will help," she trailed off for a moment chewing her lip again.

"I'm making this video of my own free will and accord because I need to set the record straight; I owe her that much." Her eyes closed for a moment and she drew in a shuttering breath continuing with her eyes still closed. "I didn't know what I was asking, not completely, not really. But she did, she knew…" Julie's eyes opened again and were brimmed with tears, she sniffed and continued. "She knew exactly what the consequences would be, but she didn't care, it didn't matter to her—" Julie's voice warbled with emotion.

Ranger felt like he'd been kicked in the gut. She'd done it. Stephanie, his Babe had kidnapped his daughter. His shaking legs found their way into the chair and he all but collapsed in it bent forward elbows on his knees trying to breathe through the blackness swimming at the edges of his vision as above his head on the screen his daughter continued to talk.

"I'm sorry for that, God so sorry Stephanie." Julie continued jerking Ranger's attention back to the screen. What the Fuck? Why the hell was his Daughter the kidnappee apologizing to her kidnaper?! Some kind of Stockholm syndrome?

"I thought when all this was over we could just go home," Julie admitted pausing to swipe quickly at her cheeks with one hand. "I thought when Ranger came back we could just turn over the tapes, and tell everyone what happened and we'd all be okay…" she bit her lip again and another tear slid down her cheek.

Ranger felt like his head was spinning, _tapes? __What Tapes? Was she talking about this recording?_

"But I get it now, I realize now what being with me means. Stephanie Michelle Plum is the best person I've ever met in my life—she's the mother I always wanted. Because a Mom is someone who stands up for you, who defends you when no one else will; who does the right thing even if no one else can see it that way. If we come back, Stephanie—my Mom, will be arrested." Julie's voice took on a hard edge and more tears slid down her cheeks. "She'll go to jail for doing what I asked, for helping me, for being there for me—and it's all my fault." Her voice broke on the last word and she stopped. Pressing her palm to her mouth for a moment squeezing her eyes shut tight obviously fighting for control over the tears still escaping her.

_What the Hell was she saying? _Ranger wondered at a loss, noticing belatedly that Lester and Tank had sank down into chairs beside him. Lester's hands were shaking clasped in the air in front of his face and his breathing looked uneven like he too might be fighting tears, it was after all his niece on the screen.

"Steph doesn't know I'm making this video, she doesn't know I'm sending it. She told me it was too dangerous, that with my Dad home, if we left any breadcrumbs, Batman would find us." She flashed the camera a small watery smile at that. "But I have to do this. I have to set the record straight. And if you're watching this Dad, please don't look for us. We're safe, because nobody knows who we are, we're together and even if I came back to the states to live with you now, Steph could never comeback; even if we waited until I was eighteen so I wouldn't' have to worry about Rachel or Ron….Steph would still go to jail. I didn't think of that when I asked her to help me, I didn't realize that this would _never_ end, not for her; that I took everything from her—that she gave up everything for me. But now I know."

She held up something in her hand, a thin packet of papers and what looked like a recording device college kids used to record lectures and police officers might use to record statements. "She said it wouldn't help, that no one would listen to me because I'm just a kid, and they would think I was coerced into saying these things. But I have proof," her voice took on a hard edge. "I have recordings, and documents, and even if legally no one cares about that I wanted the only people in the world that matter to her—my _Dad_, and her friends at Rangeman; Tank and Bobby and Hal and Lester and Cal and Hector and Woody…" She smiles softly. "You guys are the _only_ ones she cared about losing, about lying too and disappointing. Dad, you more than anyone."

She took a deep breath drawing herself up in her chair and staring straight at him. "So here goes, this is my confession. Stephanie is innocent, she did what she did because I asked her to help me. I, Julie Rachelle Martine, kidnapped myself. And here's why…"

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To be continued...

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What you didn't really think Steph would be the bad guy did ya? You so silly! ; )


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** Not mine, simply borrowed.

**Thanks!  **_Thanks go out to Meyzen, Barb4psu, spiffytgm, shellbell78, Angie, Guest, Angela Mueller, Elkniw73, lundyred, Cara245, west islander, Jade-long string of numbers! lol Guest, Sage0967, emmme3, erdi99, babesrus2, jenio1 Meyzen, armyamyjbspencer06, JeanieJ, AParker13, jackattack1, DebK, Thank you thank you guys and gals, you make me feel awesome! _

_All the reviews were loved and hugged and snuggled and passed on to Ranger...who didn't say a whole lot, but hey, it's Ranger! :D_

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**Chapter Three**

_SPOV_

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**_Four months prior… _**

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I slammed through the front door of my apartment dripping vanilla custard and…well, best not to think about what else onto the front entryway floor. I stared down at the gooey mess plopping and congealing around my scuffed up CATs on the fake tile linoleum and tried to remember if I'd picked up any more Swiffer wet mops when I was out last week. I don't think I did. _Ugh. Perfect_. It didn't seem to matter how much training I did with Ranger's men during the week, some people were just bat shit crazy!

Stripping off my shirt and holding it carefully so as not to drip more…whatever…onto the carpet I made my way towards the bathroom stripping the rest of my clothing and tossing them into the laundry hamper. I was going to have to run to the laundry mat I told myself huffing out a sigh. I'd go to my parent's house and use theirs but after this latest fiasco I could imagine my Mother ironing away in the kitchen and her phone ringing off the hook the line clogged with everyone and their mother rushing to either inform her what-went-down or to ask for better details. Living in the burg was like existing in one of those national enquirer magazines they sold at the quick-n-save checkout. Everything was a story, and nothing was too unbelievable or far-fetched!

I turned on the shower and started lathering up my hair. Personally it was getting kinda old. My life was a soap opera to the Burg, front page headlines—even the private parts of it, okay especially the private parts of it. The 'burg lived and breathed my break-ups. It was like being a Hollywood actress only without the designer clothes.

Hell lately the only thing I'd been wearing was black, and lots of it. No, I didn't suddenly hit a Goth phase—I was working for Rangeman, again. Skips had been few and far between—and not worth much to boot just before Ranger had gone into the wind and I'd agreed to work for him four days a week Monday through Thursday (though honestly I could shift my schedule pretty much as needed and no one seemed to care.) Friday through Sunday I spent working for Vinnie, mostly because I still felt kinda obligated and I didn't want to get bored since I had almost no social life to speak of, and it seemed to be working well….minus todays custard incident.

I had money in the bank, my rent was paid up, my credit cards were paid off and I was driving a half-way decent vehicle. No, it wasn't black—it was a dark sleek grey. Lula called it 'Rangeman Lite' when she'd first seen it and I'd snorted. But she wasn't wrong; truth is I never really felt badass enough to pull off the Black _everything_. I was after all still a skinny-ass white girl from the 'burg, and no amount of forcing me to run and practicing defense moves was going to change that. The car was good though, probably one of the best I'd had since leaving E.E. Martin and losing my Miata. It was four years old but it had AC and a radio and so far no one had fire-bombed it, (go me!)

The only area of my life that didn't seem to be showing improvement if we were handing out report cards was my love life—or lack of one.

Ranger was in the wind—and really there wasn't a love life there—well beyond the fact that I was completely head over heels in love with HIM. He loved me too, or so he said; just in his own way. And that apparently meant he could spend time in my bed, and poach kisses in the alley behind the bonds office. But it didn't mean enough for him to make any kind of commitment—and call me crazy but the whole love 'em and leave 'em routine the next morning left me feeling about two inches tall and like total shit. So no, there was nothing going on between me and the Cuban sex god even before he left for parts unknown—besides the occasional stolen panty destroying kisses that is.

Joe Morelli my Burg origin on-again/off-again sorta-boyfriend was in the off-again stage. Though this time off-again was feeling more like off-for-good since he'd been seeing a second grade teacher named Kelly Joswiech. Color me surprised as well—especially since I found out they were seeing each other when I'd stopped by to see him as a surprise and found out I wasn't the only one 'his boys' had been seeing, if you catch my drift.

Good riddance. I was upset when it happened, I mean who wouldn't be? But I can't say I was surprised. I'd suspected Joe of seeing others for almost the entire time we'd sorta-been-together. Old habits die hard, and Joe had always been a run-around-sue kinda guy. I'd just never been able to prove it while we were together beyond a hinky suspicion and some questionable behavior. Now I could and after the whole Dick thing I'd called it quits. I was done with cheaters, and second chances. Burn me once and all that jazz.

I climbed out of the shower and pulled on a pair of comfortable yoga pants and a t-shirt that may have once belonged to a certain sex-god bounty hunter/soldier of fortune who wasn't around to see I'd stolen it. _What? Don't judge me, it's just a shirt for Christ sake! It wasn't like I had stolen his shower gel too…just don't look in my bathroom and we can both go right on believing that lie…_

I turned on my laptop and booted up my email, deleting several offers for penis enlargement and weight loss supplements. Thanks internet gurus but working at Rangeman was keeping me pretty trim with the required workout program that came with my contract. It probably also helped that I  
hadn't needed any emotional therapy in the form of binge-eating since I hadn't had to worry about fighting with Joe in weeks. And since I didn't have a penis of my own, or a man; enlargement was kinda lost on me.

Spam deleted, I sifted through a few Groupons and sales ads before logging into my private email account, the one Hector had set up for me—this one was for emergencies, and not many people knew about it. Sometimes I had to remind myself with sticky notes to check it daily but with Ranger in the wind I hadn't forgotten once. Which was probably silly since I doubt whatever hell hole he's sitting in has running water, a secure wi-fi connection was probably asking a bit much. He's never emailed me while in the wind. But I checked anyway. I know, I know, pathetic.

I had an email from an account I didn't recognize, odd. After hesitating a moment I opened it and realized a few key words in that it was from Ranger's daughter Julie. I sucked in a breath and drummed my fingers on the laptops edge wondering what the hell was going on. We'd been emailing and talking consistently since the whole Scrog disaster almost a year ago now, but she usually emailed my regular email account.

God, I realized siting on my couch staring over my shoulder unconsciously at the closed apartment door, suddenly remembering all too acutely the way it felt to see Ranger walk through that door ready to die, had it really been that long? I shuddered and pushing those memories away. The mail was from a dummy address and already had me worried, why would Julie need to email me this way? I read further, and felt my heart leap into my throat and my stomach knot up.

_Shit._ I read the email again just to be certain I hadn't missed something then deleted it and quickly ran the program Hector had installed for me to insure it didn't show up anywhere else, there hadn't been anything in the email that could get me into trouble, but I didn't want to raise suspicion especially after reading the subject matter.

I set the laptop down on the cushion next to me and picked up my iPhone off the coffee table my fingers freezing over the short key that would connect me to the control room at Rangeman. Ranger was in the wind. I could tell Tank, or Lester or hell any of the guys but what could they really do about this? It was no more than a suspicion right now. I'd talk to Julie tomorrow and find out more details, what she overheard—or thought she overheard couldn't possibly be right could it? Course it had been scary enough for her to make a new secret email account at a friend's house and to email my private account. I'd talk to her tomorrow and we'd figure this out, she'd assured me she would call.

I went to bed, or tried to. I ended up tossing and turning most of the night, my stomach a mess of knots and my Spidey Sense going haywire turning Julie's words over and over in my mind. I kept thinking about Scrog and when I finally did fall asleep I dreamed awful things I'd rather not remember.

Morning came early and left me feeling like my eyes had been rolled in cut glass. Ugh. The last time I felt this bad there'd at least been alcohol involved, lots of it. I felt like I'd barely slept at all.

The clock said 7:32am. My alarm is usually set for 5:50am Monday through Thursday so I can get to Rangeman on time. So this was considered sleeping in. Amazing how the me just a few months ago would have shuddered in horror at that thought. Oh well, not having to worry about my bills was kinda worth it after so many years of ups and downs and ramen noodles. Julie's email stated she would be visiting a friend today, and she would be going to mall with her. Julie had said she would get a throw-away cell phone at mall and call me at 3pm, another detail making my Spidey sense go crazy.

It was Sunday, but I had nothing else to do today if I stayed home to clean my apartment I'd probably just end up climbing the walls and I really wanted to double check some things Julie had said and there was only one place I could do that.

* * *

The Trenton Rangeman building was pretty subdued at this hour on a Sunday morning.

Not that there weren't Rangemen in the building—there were _always_ Rangemen in the building. Security was a 24/7 and 365 job. But Sunday morning is slow, even for crime, and lots of the guys, the majority of them in fact usually cover the Monday through Friday between installs and new client tracking. Most of the guys working today would be on monitors or cruising around town in black Rangeman SUV's personally checking client properties as per their contracts. Sunday was a skeleton crew kinda day at Rangeman—but an armed and fully loaded for bear skeleton crew, mind you, so don't get any funny ideas!

I waved hello to the security cameras in the elevator and popped my head into the Camera hub to wave hello to Woody and Hal who happened to be on duty in person.

"Sunday Morning Bombshell?" Hal gave me a once over with his eyes the silent question left hanging in the air.

"No crisis, no stalkers, just a lot of searches in my box and I thought I'd get a look at them, might need a weekday off to catch this FTA I missed yesterday." Hal nodded and Woody tipped his imaginary cowboy hat to me and I proceeded down the hallway to my cubicle.

Once there I settled in to do some searches, just not any sent down by Rangeman. _What? It wasn't like I lied to -Hal…not exactly. Maybe it wasn't a crisis, _I told myself. Then I crossed my fingers and said a prayer for good luck.

Trying to push away the guilt I chewed at my thumbnail staring at the screen before forcing myself to stop. A watched pot never boils, I reminded myself. Not that that helped my nerves any. So I set to actually doing some work on my laptop while my secret searches ran.

I'd made my way through three files and half a mountain of paperwork required for new security contracts by lunchtime and learned that Rachel and Ron didn't seem to have any financial woes—the only odd thing was that Ron had taken out two private lines of credit in the last six months, credit cards for rather whooping amounts around 20,000 a piece. And only in his name, Rachel's name was on neither of the accounts.

Nothing major there—except that the Martine's were receiving over 6,000 a month in child-support from Ranger alone. That didn't include the full time Salary that Ron was supposed to pull in on his own, and that it looked like according to his bank statements he was currently receiving, so it wasn't like he'd been fired or quit.

So why was he using two credit cards both nearly maxed out to pay things like utilities and Julie's private school tuition? I was stumped. They'd never needed credit cards before. Maybe he was trying to collect sky miles for a family trip or something, it didn't have to necessarily be something nefarious? Did it?

I shrugged and searched using another engine but couldn't find anything else showing a financial burden or other problem. My Spidey sense was going haywire again. If I couldn't find a reason for the Martine's sudden financial need then perhaps Julie was right and Ron owed the wrong kind of people money, or worse maybe Ron Martine really had gotten it into his head that 6,000 a month wasn't enough and he wanted more, like one lump sum.

My stomach was crawling and the back of my neck was tingling so hard all the hair was standing up on my arms in a seriously full on case of the heebie-jeebies. Don't laugh; it's never failed me before. I needed to talk to Julie. _Now._

I checked my clock almost time. Call me crazy but I didn't want to answer this call while at Rangeman. I shut down my laptop after ending the last real search—I'd finish it first thing tomorrow morning. Then I shut down my regular computer and packed everything up and was just getting to the elevator when Hal poked his head out of the monitor room.

"Were gonna order subs for lunch Bomber, you want one?"

I couldn't help but grin a bit at that, "While the Ranger's away the Merry Men will eat trans fats and carbohydrates huh?"

"You bet your ass we will!" Cal winked at me moving towards the monitor room from down the hallway.

"Promise not to tattle on us Bomber?"

I gave Hal a wink and a shake of my head, "as long as it doesn't come down to torture, these lips are sealed!" I stepped into the elevator miming locking my lips and tossing away the key before waving a quick goodbye as the doors shut and made it down to the parking garage in time to hear my cell phone start ringing with its generic ringtone—the one for numbers not programed into the phonebook.

I quickly pulled the phone out of my pocket and answered it.

"Hello?"

"Stephanie? It's Julie!" Julie answered sounding out of breath. "You got my email?"

I told her I had and quickly finished crossing the nearly empty parking deck to my car where I could sit out of listening range of any curious ears that might come down the stair-well or exit the elevator. I tried my best to ignore Ranger's line of sleek black vehicles all lined up in a row closest to the elevator door and hurried past them. I wanted to have this conversation without being in the direct line of sight to any of the cameras—I'd made sure of that by parking on the far side with my car's nose pressed almost to the concrete wall of the deck. I wasn't positive the guys on duty couldn't read lips on camera—and I've never been that good at schooling my facial expressions either.

As soon as the door shut to my car I pressed the phone tightly to my ear and asked, "what's going on Julie?"

"I, don't know exactly…it's just Ron's been acting different ever since the whole Scrog thing…"

"I think that's normal, Jules, it was a lot of stress, maybe he's just not sure what to say." It had been almost a year now but people process things differently right? At different speeds? I mean look at me; I was the queen and figure head of denial land—I STILL hadn't dealt with all the fall-out from Scrog… I was clearly not qualified to pass judgment on what was a normal time frame to get over something like that!

"It's not that…I've heard him make comments," Julie hesitated, and I swear I heard her breath hitch through the line like she was crying.

"What Julie, what kind of comments?" That creepy-crawly feeling and knot in my stomach was back, tenfold.

"He was talking to my Mom, they thought I was in bed, but they got kinda loud and I woke up and I heard them. Something about investments that weren't working out, he said he could put more money in if they didn't have to pay for my expensive school and violin lessons."

Okay, I reasoned, that seemed like a pretty normal thing for a parent to freak out about, who didn't freak out about retirement, or money for that matter? Until very recently money had been a pretty big concern for me, and retirement? I personally tried not to think about it. _401k? What me? No thanks, I'll…figure it out…later._

"I thought Ranger's checks covered your school?" I felt myself frown slightly.

I'd seen the checks to Julie's school coming out of Ron and Rachel's account thanks to the search engine (hey, no judgment I was worried alright!) and I'd also seen Ron charge the last few months tuition to the credit card in his name, and it wasn't as expensive as I thought it would be—don't get me wrong; I couldn't afford it, but it wasn't so high it made my eyeballs turn inside out.

"It does, more than that," Julie told me in a tight whisper. "I got two scholarships this year for my academics and music so almost all of my tuition is covered anyway! Ron's barely paying anything."

Well, that explained it. Yikes, two scholarships? I'd hate to see what it cost before that was deducted! "So where does the extra money go?" Ranger had mentioned to me once that Rachel was supposed to put the money left over in Julie's college fund, and investments in Julie's name for her to use later. I had a bad feeling if Ron was actually the one moving the money that might not be the case…

"It's supposed to go in my college fund," Julie confirmed for me. Hmm, I needed to go back upstairs and run another search, this time for Julie's name. Can't believe I didn't think of that sooner! _Mental head thwack!_

"Steph, Ron's really scaring me. He…he called me…" Julie paused while I had a mini heart attack worrying that the next word she was going to say was bitch, or something like that…God I would fly to Miami right now and kill him!

"He called me untapped potential," Julie whispered.

My brain hit a pot hole. "What?" That didn't make sense to me. It didn't sound particularly flattering, sure; I knew all about that, have you met my mother? But just what the Hell was Ron talking about? Two scholarships sounded like Julie had plenty of potential! I guess some people are never happy, Jules and I could start a club… then Julie started speaking again and my blood ran cold and I couldn't breathe.

"He said my Mom was an idiot for sitting on a virtual pot of gold for so many years, and that Scrog had it half right, and it was obvious if Ranger could write off six grand a month for a kid he didn't even legally have obligations too he'd probably drop a million easy if a situation arose."

I was getting a really sick feeling, no scratch that, I was beyond feeling sick; I might have to actually pop open my car door and puke onto the pavement—good thing I hadn't eaten lunch yet. Usually only dead bodies and people holding gun's to my head can trigger my need-to-puke-reflex.

I sucked in a sharp breath. "Julie, that can't be what he said…"

"It was! Steph you've got to believe me! I'm so scared!" She sounded close to tears, and I felt my eyes watering in reaction.

"Breath Julie, breath" I was also reminding myself while trying to sound Zen and stoic so Julie didn't know how freaked out I actually was, go me with the multi-tasking right? Meanwhile my nerves were a jumbled mess and my Spidey sense was doing cartwheels. "I believe you sweetie, but we've got to figure this out." I took another deep calming breath and chewed on my lip for a moment.

"Did you hear them say anything else?"

"Yes, three nights ago, they were talking again and my Mom reminded Ron about Ranger being out of the country on a mission, and Ron said that was perfect—with Ranger out of the way instead of investigating who took me like with Scrog he was certain Rangeman's lawyers would simply cut a check."

_Holy Shit!_

"Omigod, Steph I'm so freaked out!"

_Shit, did I say that out loud? Crap, I was supposed to be the calm one_! I needed to remain calm and controlled so Julie didn't freak out worse then she already was.

"We have to get a hold of my Dad!" Julie pleaded in my ear, and it took me a second in my panicked state to realize she didn't mean Ron; she was talking about Ranger!

"Julie, Ranger's in the wind…he's out of the country," I clarified realizing she probably had no idea what 'in the wind' meant, hell I wasn't sure even I knew what the hell it meant—not really. Man of mystery and all that.

"Can't you contact him?" Julie pleaded.

_God. I wish, I really needed Batman right now. Batman would know what to do._

"Julie you need to tell someone about this." _Someone other than me, someone who knows what the Hell they're doing with a situation like this!_

"I tried!" Julie sobbed and my heart clenched in my chest. "I told my guidance counselor at school; because that's what they tell you to do! If you have a problem at home, you tell someone! Only it made things worse! They called Ron into the school, and Ron told them I'd been in therapy since the Scrog incident and that I was having nightmares, and had gotten confused. He said he was going to see if they could give me a prescription for medication that would help…"

My stomach clenched in knots. "What happened after that Julie?"

"When we got in the car he told me I was an ungrateful bitch, and that I was trying to ruin everything! He said Ranger wouldn't even miss the money, he had so much of it and if I didn't keep my mouth shut instead of finding myself returned safely after my kidnapping I might wind up in a ditch somewhere!"

I couldn't breathe_. I had to go back inside, I had to call Tank, I had to get Bobby and Lester and Cal…we had to get on a plane, we had to call Rangeman Miami…oh god._

"You can't do that!" Julie sobbed. "Ron said he'd set it all up perfectly, that since I'd been seeing the therapist he'd been paying the guy five hundred bucks a session on top of the normal therapy fee so he'd write notes into my official chart—he made it sound like I was having nightmares and that I was delusional…they started giving me pills to take Stephanie, they made me feel so foggy. So I've been hiding them in my cheek or spiting them back into my milk in the morning so I can dump them down the sink in the kitchen…"

"Good girl, keep doing that." She needed a clear head, "How long has this been going on Julie?"

"Five weeks." Julie breathed out.

"WHAT?!" I shrieked. "Jules! Why didn't you say something before this!" Five weeks? Ron could have a plan in place by now, or close to it!

"I couldn't! Ron took away my laptop, and my phone, and he stands over my shoulder when I write you emails, and when we talk on the phone! This is the first chance I've had to get away, he thinks I'm on so much medicine I don't know what's going on…I've had to let my grades slip a little bit because the therapist said that could be a side effect of the drugs, and I can't react to anything at home…I'm so afraid I'm going to mess up and he's going to find out!"

Five weeks, my brain kept circling on that, god how much longer would it take for Ron to come up with a kidnapping scenario and put it in action? "We have to tell someone Julie…"

"No one will believe me! I tried to tell the councilor at school but after talking to my therapist she just thinks I'm delusional! They almost took me out of School Stephanie! I had to beg them not to, I told them I needed to feel normal or I was worried the delusions would get worse, I didn't know what else to say if I don't have to go to school every day…" she didn't finish that thought.

_She could just disappear and no one might know. Oh god. _ "We have to do something," My brow furrowed, _think Stephanie, think! What would Ranger do? God, Ranger would just go down there and make Ron disappear…not really an option for me—I doubted I could kill anyone, not and get away with it like Batman could at least. _

_I needed to get Julie out of that house, someplace safe_—but Ranger was out of the country and no one at Rangeman had legal authority to do anything with Julie. Hell, even Ranger didn't have legal rights over Julie, he'd given them up when he let Ron adopt her. What was I going to do, go to a judge as a single white female with no kids and no stable work history and beg him to give me a kid I had no blood relation to in the slightest? No one was going to give me the time of day, let alone someone else's kid! Half the time I have trouble taking care of a hamster! People thought I was bat shit crazy half time around here. Half the 'Burg and most of my family thought I was off my rocker because of my job and my continued refusal to accept 'burg-norm'.

"Can't you just come get me? Please Stephanie, Please just come get me…"

"I'm not a legal guardian,"

"I know…"

"If I take you, Julie that would…kidnapping!" Legally anyway.

"Better you then some thug Ron hires to throw my body in a ditch."

_Oh God. She was right, Fuck she was so right..._

This didn't sound like wishful thinking—this sounded like Ron Martine actually had a plan to kidnap and ransom his step-daughter, and he was just waiting for the right time. And while I had no doubt Ranger or whoever he'd left in charge of his financials would pay in a heartbeat; Julie knew the truth, and I didn't think Ron would pass up the opportunity to get his big payout and get rid of her at the same time. If he didn't Julie might talk, and when Ranger came back—Ron had to know that he at least would believe her. And with Ranger's resources it wouldn't take him long to put two and two together. We needed Batman.

I started up my car, pressing the phone to my ear with my shoulder. I had a lot of shit to do, and _no time_ to do it in.

"Julie, sweetie, I'm coming to get you. But this will be kidnapping, and the second we disappear we're talking Amber Alerts, police, the FBI too after the whole Scrog thing…and probably Rangeman will be searching for us too."

And if any of them found us, I'd be arrested and Julie would be sent right back to her legal guardians—and into Ron's waiting clutches, it might delay his plan, but since he'd gone this far already I highly doubted it would eliminate it.

_God help me._ "We need a plan."

And we needed it _Now._

* * *

_ to be continued... :)_


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:**_ I don't own them. Darn!_

**Notes: **_ was having a serious problem with it's reviews not showing up, but I think it's fixed now! I want to make sure it's fixed so next chapter I'll thank everyone!_

_I'm trying to figure out the easiest way to show the time jumps so this doesn't get confusing for readers. Anything told from Steph's POV is in the PAST, anything from Ranger's POV is present day._

* * *

**Chapter Four**

_Steph's POV_

* * *

I drove through Trenton in pretty much a daze. It's amazing in retrospect that I didn't crash into a light pole or run right through a red light and kill myself. I made it back to my apartment pretty much on auto-pilot, my head still swimming after my conversation with Julie. I had a million details to work out, each one had to be perfect, and I had no idea where to even start.

I took a deep breath pulling into the parking lot of my building, since it was Sunday and mid-afternoon the lot was half-full. I parked and climbed out lost in my thoughts. I could figure this out I told myself. It wasn't like I didn't have some experience with this topic. I've been stalked a lot in my short career as a bounty hunter, Hell I've even been kidnapped a few times…okay, maybe more than a few. But I'd always been the one praying for the cops and Ranger to find me. And since I was still around, obviously that had worked out well for me in the past.

The number of times I'd been abducted and saved (thank god, I liked being alive thank you) left me with the impression that perhaps kidnapping someone and getting away with it might not be as easy as television shows would lead you to believe…especially if Ranger was around. I didn't call him Batman for nothing.

Doubt washed through me and I tried my best to tamp it down. I could do this, I had to do this; Julie was counting on me.

I'm a Fugitive Apprehension Agent…just not a very good one since a lot of times little old ladies and even midgets have been known to get the best of me. But on the positive side I'd been evaded enough in my time as a bounty hunter to know a lot of the in's-and-outs of slipping away when someone came pounding on the door. Probably more helpful was the time I'd spent at Rangeman tracking FTA's using their elaborate computer system. From my experience there I knew what worked—and what sent up red flags. Because it wasn't going to be Bounty Hunters chasing us when we high-tailed it. It was going to be _Everyone_.

We couldn't use credit cards, or access bank accounts—we'd have to get rid of our cell phones, and doubly so for the Rangeman issued trackers I _knew_ were in my purse. My car's location was definitely available 24/7 on Rangeman GPS though I hadn't seen them install anything I'd bet anything they were there… pretty much everything I owned was flagged in some way, and probably a lot, if not all of Julie's things—her cell phone, purse etc. would be the same.

Somehow I just couldn't see Ranger being okay with Julie running around Miami without a fleet of bodyguards after the Scrog disaster if it wasn't for a few carefully hidden GPS devices. So we'd have to find those too.

No big deal, I just had to create a plan that avoided any of those red flags and eliminate all the ways Rangemen might track us while I kept us under the radar until when-ever Ranger got home to fix this mess. Julie now had a pre-paid cell phone, so her real phone which Ron now had, probably locked up somewhere I the house wasn't going to be a problem—I doubted very much that Ron realized Rangeman was capable of tracking the device he'd taken from her. Ron's attempt to keep Julie from contacting me, or anyone else was actually going to help us in that regard. And if we were creative in dumping my GPS locators we could lay false trails that would keep Rangeman at least busy while we made our escape.

I'd never thought I'd be faced with the opposite side of the coin. I had to think like the bad guy and I had to think fast. I rode the elevator to my apartment in silence my brain buzzing and let myself in locking the door behind me before kicking off my CATs and flopping face-down on the bed in my 'thinking-position.'

Okay, let's approach this logically Plum. _Think like Batman,_ I told myself, _Batman always had a plan—and a back-up plan. And a back-up plan to his back-up plan…ugh. _I tended to just kinda,_ react. _And that was a sure-fire way to get us both caught in a matter of hours.

Julie had already told me about her plan to get away—she'd been planning to run-away herself if she couldn't reach me in time, and since her plan had sounded pretty fool-proof we'd decided together to stick with it. Julie was going to slip away during an up-coming field trip to the Science Museum, with over a hundred kids at the Museum, and two other schools there the same day the chaos would make walking out of the museum as easy as getting lost in a crowd and then simply walking out the front door just behind a random family; making it look like she belonged with them. Julie's original solo plan had been to then take a greyhound bus to NJ so she could find me in person, since she knew where my apartment was after the whole Scrog thing getting a taxi to from the bus stop to my building would have been completely plausible. But now that I was in on the plan I just had to be there to pick her up when she walked out of the museum, piece of cake.

That was the easy part; it was immediately after that I knew we'd have a problem. The moment they realized Julie was missing the shit would hit the fan—and we'd have every form of law enforcement public and private after us. And it wasn't like I could just call them up and say, 'Hey guys, don't worry about it! See I'm actually the good guy here!'

In fact I'd realized on my drive home that I couldn't call or tell anyone at Rangeman anything about what was going on—even after we disappeared.

We were going to need Ranger and his company intact to un-ravel this mess for us when he got home. And if I brought in anyone from Rangeman; Tank or Bobby or Lester it would probably come out in the initial investigation—I couldn't risk making it look like Rangeman Inc. was involved in any capacity. They'd probably already suspect Ranger the second this went down, since he was Julie's biological father. So it was a good thing he was in the wind really, no alibi more secure then super-secret government work…

In the next few days I had to be especially careful at work, anything I did at Rangeman, and anything I said might make it look like Ranger had orchestrated this whole thing to take place _while_ he was gone. Ranger couldn't help us if he got back into town and had to go on the run himself, or worse was arrested or detained for questioning. Rangeman needed to be left completely out of the loop. I had to make it perfectly clear I was working alone, which meant I had to actually _be_ alone when I did this, it was an awful lonely feeling. Not to mention terrifying.

The good thing was with Ranger out of the country we didn't have to combat Batman himself in the flesh to make our get-away. If that were the case we might as well throw in the towel. We did have to outsmart Rangeman, but I had a little bit of an advantage there as well. I'd be in Miami and while the guys there didn't know me personally like the Merry Men here; they knew _of _me. So they would probably operate under the assumption that I was doing something for Rangeman in Trenton should we run into one of them before we made a getaway. Then I'd just have to talk fast and make it sound official, I could do that. Hell with Julie's life on the line I was prepared to lie my ass off.

Hopefully that assumption and the rumor (which I suspected was started by Ranger himself years ago, though that theory remained unconfirmed,) that I was 'Manoso's Woman' ( however untrue, God I wish!) would mean no one would stop me when I got to Miami, otherwise I doubted I'd make it two blocks!

…I just had to make sure we were 'in the wind' before they figured out I'd gone rogue.

Which was another problem. I couldn't think of anyplace safe in the country that was 'in the wind' enough to not get caught—not by Rangeman anyway. Even without Ranger at the helm, Rangeman was a fierce opponent—probably more dangerous to us then law enforcement would be.

Because I had no doubt when Tank realized I had Julie he wouldn't worry about little things like following the Law to bring me in. I didn't think he'd shoot me in the back…but he was going to be highly motivated to track me down and ask me some not-so-fun questions. _Yikes._ Just thinking about that possible confrontation was enough to give a girl hives.

I didn't even want to think about what would happen when I had to come face-to-face with Ranger again. Hopefully by then the truth would be out and he wouldn't just kill me with his bare hands. There was also the firm possibility the only way I'd ever see him again would be through a thick plexi-glass wall, or in a court room if we got caught…I started to feel dizzy and had to remind myself to breath for a few moments before worrying about the next problem.

We needed to get out of the country. And we certainly couldn't do that with our own passports—those would no doubt be flagged by Rangeman; Hell I wouldn't put it past Ranger to have an alert attached to the damn things now even without a crisis. He always was one step ahead of me when things went wrong in my life, normally I didn't mind so much—but since I was trying to outsmart even him it was a serious problem.

We needed bogus passports. Hell, we needed whole new identities, and we needed them fast. Things like that didn't come cheap, and couldn't come through Rangeman in any capacity or they'd be worth less than the paper they were printed on!

Lucky for me I thought I knew someone who could help us out with the fake ID's, and I probably had enough money to get them sitting in my bank account right now. I pulled myself out of my 'thinking position' and went to turn on my laptop so I could check my bank account. I needed to make a large cash with-drawl first thing tomorrow morning.

I also needed to close some accounts, and it shouldn't set off any red flags since they were already paid off and I hadn't run them up yet—or even had a chance to use them lately since I'd been so busy between Rangeman and the Bond's office.

I started making phone calls, cancelling my private cards and three department store ones. I was surprised how good it actually felt, it was nice to know I wouldn't owe anyone while I was a fugitive, and at least I wouldn't be ruining my credit while I was unable to make regular payments.

Silver linings Steph, focus on the little things. That was what was going to get us through this.

Next I looked up public transportation options and routes in and around Miami. I printed out several route lines for the buses available and noted the times we'd need to catch and connect for the first few hours. We needed a way out of Miami no one would think to check, that meant airlines and things like buses and trains would be flagged in hours if not faster. Even with fake ID's that would be nerve wracking.

What we needed was a place to hide-out and a way out of the country…and then it hit me in the form of an advertisement that pops up in the corner of your online searches. I felt myself grin and clicked the link, sifting through the options I had enough cash to cover this too, and the best part was it was so insane no one would expect it!

* * *

Bright and early Monday morning I pulled myself from bed, did the bathroom thing getting myself ready for a day of work at Rangeman on complete auto-pilot running through the check list of everything I needed to get done today. It was too early for the bank to be open, and I highly doubted the guy I needed to see on Stark Street would be up and around at this hour—I'd have much better chances after lunch.

I shoved my feet into my CATs at the door and grabbed a banana from the bowl on the edge of my counter when my eyes fell on Rex's cage._ Rex. Shit._

I opened the fridge and dropped a few goodies into Rex's bowl and watched his furry butt wiggle backwards out of his soup can. He paused on his hind legs blinking his big black button eyes at me and his whiskers twitched. I couldn't be positive but it looked indignant to me, like 'how dare you forget about me?' The sad part was Rex was right, I had forgotten, I bit my lip feeling guilty for multiple reasons. The most obvious being that I had almost overlooked Rex in my Panic to get to Julie; the second most hounding that if I was such a crappy hamster parent how in the hell was I qualified to take care of Julie, while on the run from the law!

"How do I get myself into these messes?" I asked.

Rex didn't seem to have an answer so he busied himself with shoving two grapes into his cheeks and then raced back into his can. Maybe Mary Lou would take him…my face twisted up and I bit my lip. I could ask my mom, yeah no. I discarded that thought as quickly as it came. There was no way my mom would want to take care of my Hamster while I was busy being a fugitive.

_Hmmm_. I was suddenly struck with an idea. I grabbed a plastic grocery bag from under the sink and quickly shoved Rex's essentials; Hamster crunchies, a half full bag of pine shavings, a spare soup can and water dish for when he chewed the edge of his current one too much—Bob and Rex had similar eating disorders at times. In times of stress Bob the dog (who now lived permanently with Joe, since I'd successfully relocated him years ago) often ate pizza boxes and sofa cushions, Rex ate the hard plastic of his food bowl. I figured I'd just stick with Tastycakes, personally I think sofa cushions and plastic would be hell on the stomach, but no judgment, to each his own I guess.

Sticking the plastic bag's handles over my arm I picked up Rex's cage balancing it awkwardly in one arm against my thigh and knee while I grabbed my purse and left the apartment. I took the elevator instead of the stairs, because of Rex's cage, I swear. And made it to the lot where I had to once again balance the cage against one leg to get the car door open.

Once Rex was securely tucked inside I made the drive to work at Haywood and carried Rex out of the car and into the elevator skipping my usual fingerwave to the guys on monitoring duty since I had my arms full I wasn't all that surprised when the elevator door opened on five and Lester met me in the hallway.

"You moving in Beautiful?" Lester waggled his eyebrows at me and took Rex out of my arms. "There's room in my place on four," He grinned leeringly and I rolled my eyes.

"In your dreams," I snorted and started towards my cubicle.

"What up with the new work mascot?" Lester inquired following a step behind me.

"I had to set up some of those bug bomb thingies in my apartment this morning, the new apartment lease requires them, and Rex can't be in the apartment it's toxic." Am I creative or what?

"You have a place to sleep tonight?" Lester grinned at me and gave me a wink.

"Yes! I'll be at my apartment, it's fine for me to be there after a few hours, just not Rex—guess it's cause his lungs are so much smaller and more sensitive."

Lester kept the grin firmly in place sliding Rex onto a free spot on my desk and carefully pushing his cage back against the wall so he was secure between my stapler and desk lamp. "Well I've heard those things are smelly so if you start to feel dizzy and need someone to rescue you; maybe offer mouth to mouth resuscitation you know who to call."

"In your dreams Santos," I rolled my eyes shoving his lower back with both hands, "Now get out of my office, I have work to do."

Lester left laughing and I settled into work for a few hours trying to keep myself focused on the task at hand and not wondering if Julie was okay.

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to be continued...


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:** I don't own them, I make no profit from their use.

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**Special Thanks to: **_ johnsmom, the newest daughter, guest, jwarden, trhodes9, Angela Mueller, Cherrywolf713, babesrus2, erdi99, Janarden, Fanfictionstalker, Barb4psu, Debk, Lulubelle99, MnGrammaX3, saphireangel09, Four Reasons, JeanieJ, Guest, Selene Aduial, Guest, sbabe, jbspenser06, willowchat, Liz1969, Cara245, paksiegurlie, Elkniw73, elaonor, batmanlovesbabe, Ziandra2010, RangerFanatic, jwarden, shellbell78, spiffytgm, jackattack1, Meyzen, AParker13, emmme3, sage0967, Jade-that's a lot of numbers!, west islander, and Angie!_

_I hope I didn't miss anyone!_

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**Chapter Five**

SPOV

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Several hours and background searches later my stomach was protesting my light breakfast and I knew the bank would be open. I was also starting to wonder if heading to Stark Street alone was a good idea. I mean it wasn't like I'd never gone to Stark Street alone and gotten out unscathed…it's just more often than not things went…wrong. Normally my pride would have me saying screw it and I'd head off on my own but now if something happened to me it might delay me getting out of here to save Julie, and that might be precious time that neither of us had to waste.

I was drumming my fingers on the edge of my desk mulling over who I might ask to go with me when Hector popped into my cubicle grinning. "Hola Chica,"

"Hola Hector," I was suddenly struck with an idea. "Hector, can you help me?"

"Si," Hector nodded, "Qué necesitas?" He looked at me expectantly. Apparently Hector wasn't going to let me off the hook today.

I felt my face screw up, searching for the words. "Tengo que ir a Stark, y el banco." (I need to go to Stark, and the bank.)

Hector pursed his lips for a moment. "Lunch?" He asked.

I nodded, Do these guys know me or what? I'd never turn down food! "Of course!" I grabbed my purse and Hector walked with me to the elevator.

We drove my car to a local sub place five blocks from Rangeman and placed our orders. Hector made small talk with me in Spanish while we waited for our orders to be done, I tried to pay extra special attention because I had a feeling I was going to be needed this knowledge for more than just small talk really soon. When the food arrived my stomach growled loud enough that it startled Hector and he started to laugh. We both ate quickly still chatting back and forth, and I felt myself relaxing for the first time since the email from Julie. I didn't even mind when Hector stole the pickle spear out of my basket and ate it.

Hector surprised me by grabbing a chocolate chip cookie from the basket by the register while I tossed our wax paper and discarded napkins in the trash and returned our now empty baskets to the counter-top to be washed for the next hungry patrons. I looked at him questioningly as he paid for the cookie and slipped it into his pocket. "Para su mascota." He told me, and must have guessed my confusion probably based on my expression. "Your pet, Chica. Lunch for him." Hector grinned and I laughed.

We hit the bank next and Hector waited patiently in the car for me while I took thirty minutes inside emptying my account of everything but the five dollars required to keep it open, I was worried closing the account would send up a red flag at Rangeman. I apologized when I got back to the car and told him there had been a really long line inside. Hector shrugged grinning at me and seemed at ease sitting in the passenger seat listening to some Latin music he'd found on my radio. "No hay problema," he told me. I wasn't sure I'd have had the same kind of patience had our situations been reversed. Something I'd have to seriously work on I realized.

We left the bank and I drove the distance to Stark Street chewing my bottom lip nervously. The Pawn shop was located right on the corner of Stark and Marks Ave, so I guess technically you could say it was on Marks and not Stark…not that Marks was much better as far as war-zones go.

"What we need here?" Hector asked me when we pulled up in front of the building. If he recognized the address he didn't say.

"Information on an FTA I missed yesterday," I lied eying the building in front of us. "Can you just hang out here? He's expecting me already."

"You sure?" Hector eyed me and I wondered which part of that he was questioning, that he should wait in the car or that the guy inside was expecting me. Since he wasn't actually, expecting me that is, I didn't really want Hector to come inside and find out I'd been lying to him. Not to mention the fake ID's I needed to get here would be useless if Hector knew about them. He might not mention them to Tank or anyone else at Rangeman right now, but the second we disappeared he'd let them know exactly what I'd done.

"Si," I told him. Hector shrugged and started fiddling with the radio dials again. At least with Hector in the car I'd have four wheels and a vehicle to come back to I reasoned. Another good reason to bring him, the residents of Stark Street have a tendency to displace things left unattended.

"You are armed?" Hector asked, then taking in my expression he frowned and pulled a twenty-two from near his ankle and handed it to me. I tucked it into the waistband of my pants and pulled my shirt out so it was covered then got out of the car.

I crossed the small parking lot to the pawn shop and pushed open the door. An electronic bell heralded my arrival sounding low on batteries and ready to die—it warbled sickly and made me wince. No way could I listen to that thing all day—but considering I was the only one in the store I guess it didn't go off a whole lot.

"Can I help you SweetThing? Interest you in some fine jewelry perhaps?" The man behind the counter asked smiling. There was a gap between his front teeth large enough to park a car in.

"Uh, no jewelry thanks. I'm here for other services." I told him.

The grin widened and his eyes slid over my chest and got stuck. "What kinda services you have in mind?"

_Ugh._ "Paperwork." I told him. And the look he was giving me changed to suspicion.

"I have cash," I informed him quickly. "I work for Manoso, and I need this kept quiet."

The look changed again. He placed both palms on the glass counter between us. "You're Manoso's Woman. I thought you looked familiar. Seen you in the papers, you like to blow shit up."

I scowled. "Paper's exaggerate the truth, it's rarely my fault, these things just happen. Now about the paperwork?"

"What kinda paperwork are we talking about? You look old enough to drink."

"I need three driver's licenses, different states I don't care which ones, just something east coast, three different names for me. And three fake birth certificates. Make two for a twelve year old girl and one for a 12 year old boy, match my fake ID's with each of the names of the birth mother."

"And the father?" Gap-tooth was eying me with an odd expression. "Manoso gonna care who your Baby Daddy is?"

"Make it up, it's not important, just make it credible, no iffy sounding names!" I fished around in my purse pulling out one of the envelopes I'd gotten at the bank. I held it in my hand so he could clearly see it. "I need the good stuff too. It needs to pass inspection from more than just a club bouncer, and I need it fast."

"Damn Girl, slow down, that don't come cheap." He was eyeing the fat envelope in my hand with a hungry look.

"It doesn't have to be cheap," I told him, "It just has to be fair, and it has to be right."

"No problem SweetThing, I'm an artist. I got this. How soon you need these items?"

"Tonight would be great, tomorrow afternoon at the very latest, the faster the better."

"You in trouble lady? Manoso not be real happy if he finds out I sent his woman off the grid, without his knowledge…sounds like bad business. Man like Manoso—he likes to know where his property is."

Normally I'd object to being considered anyone's property—even Batman's. But on Stark it had its advantages—like the fact that Gap Tooth had stopped leering and ogling my chest the second he realized who I was. No one wanted to mess with me and risk pissing of Ranger, so I let it go. "The second he shows up you can give him the same information you're giving me—but _only_ to Manoso." I pointed my finger at him in warning.

We both stared at it. It wasn't much of a threat. "If anyone else finds me before Manoso, he won't be happy, do we understand each other? Anyone—including his men." I reiterated and the guy nodded quickly.

"That's gonna cost you extra. You got it to spend that's your deal. I need you to fill out this form," He pulled out a yellowed piece of paper form under the counter and slid it across the scuffed glass countertop to me with a greasy looking pen. I stepped to the counter eying the form. _Seriously?_ A form for fake ID's, that seemed…well like a terrible idea, talk about a paper trail.

"Hey, it's just 'til I get the paperwork together, I give you a call, you take the sheet and the merchandise with you; you do whatever you want with it, burn it, shred it, throw it away, I don't care it's just so names don't get mixed up on different jobs."

I filled it out he took a headshot on a blank background in his office and I paid him just over six hundred dollars. Then I asked him about passports and he grinned. "That's not a rush job, gotta get that right." He informed me. "Takes skills."

I didn't care about his skills. "How long?" I asked.

"Week, easy, two is better. It's a busy month for me." I had a feeling that was code for he wanted more money to get it done faster.

"How much for two passports?"

"One for you and one for the kid? Fifteen hundred. But I need a photo of the kid."

"Can you make the passport and leave the photo page un-laminated so I can add the photo later?"

He paused giving me a long look. "You sure Manoso don't need to know this? You flying the coop with his kid?"

I pulled out two grand in hundred dollar bills and laid it on the counter. "You make the passports, but hold them here, when I call you mail them to the address I specify. And Manoso will be very unhappy if those Passports don't work out and something happens to his kid, or his Women." We stared at each other for a few moments and Gap Tooth finally nodded slowly.

"I hope you know what you're doing Lady,"

_Yeah, me too_.

* * *

Hector was still waiting, but outside the car leaned against the driver-side door almost casually. I'd worked with Ranger often enough to know he was anything but.

"Problems?" I asked.

"Nada, you take a long time for información." Hector was eyeing me again.

I shrugged one shoulder and told him, "He took a little convincing." It wasn't a lie.

Hector didn't move from his spot by the door. "Su información? Es bueno?" Hector asked looking like he wouldn't mind going inside to help me out if the guy hadn't been cooperative.

"Si, it's good." It better be, I didn't have time to shop around—he was supposed to be the best.

Hector nodded his head and circled the car to get in the passenger seat again and I climbed in behind the wheel and started the car. Hector was silent the entire drive to Haywood, maybe he was thinking, maybe he was respecting my 'zone'…not that I had a driving zone, maybe Hector had a 'passenger zone'. When we pulled into the garage at Haywood and parked Hector's hand closed over my wrist he met my eyes but didn't say anything.

"It's okay Hector, really." I just hoped he didn't notice my pulse beating frantically against my neck.

Hector nodded and climbed out and I followed him. I had two more searches to run upstairs on my desk and probably in the nearly two hours we'd been gone a few more, enough to keep my brain occupied and hopefully stop me from climbing the walls.

At five o'clock I shut down my computers and declining Lester's offer to stay on four with him (again, though I resisted the urge to slap him in the back of the head,) and I headed towards the door. Hector stopped me as I was getting into the elevator with a hand on my arm.

"You help me with something first," He explained and lead me down the hallway away from Ranger's office and the elevators down another row of cubicles only half of which were still in use at this hour. We stopped at a side office that held the equipment used on security system installs and Hector pushed medium sized cardboard box into my hands.

I eyed the odds and ends and wire gizmos tangled together inside. "Hector, what-?"

"I show you," He said and waved me to follow him with his own box. I followed his retreating form down a side hallway I vaguely recognized to a storage room in the corner of the building Hector looked at me for a long moment then very slowly keyed in a five digit code and looked at me again.

"Okay," I answered his silent question wondering what this was all about. Hector nodded slowly and pushed open the door with a twist of the handle and a push of his hip and inclined his head that I should follow him inside. The room was more of a storage vault then storage closet. Everything from military grade weapons to seemingly innocuous black crates that probably contained killer robots or smoke grenades lined shelves. Hector set his box of odds and ends on an empty shelf and waved me down the long row of shelves to a large safe nearly as tall as I was. He told me the combination as he entered the code, and when he swung the door open to reveal the inside I sucked in a breath.

I stared at him. "Hector." Apparently I was channeling my inner Ranger.

Hector shrugged one shoulder in answer and took the box from my hands to set it on the only free shelf inside not filled with stacks of bills. "I thought you should see this Chica, just in case you ever need it for una emergencia, si?"

We stared at each other for a long moment. There had to be several hundred thousand in the safe behind him. I needed to say something, but I had no idea what.

"Are you in trouble Chica?"

I wanted to say no, I wanted to laugh and shrug and wave off his question like nothing was wrong instead I felt tears well up in my eyes and Hector nodded slowly and blew out a breath.

"Do you need help Angelito?"

I tried to control my breathing so I didn't burst into tears I'd never be able to hide before I could make it out of the building. "I need your trust," I finally managed.

"Si, Creo en ti, you have it." (I believe in you)

I thanked him in a wavering voice and quickly swiped at my cheeks hoping I hadn't smudged my make-up too much. "Thank you Hector, Eres buen amigo." (you're a good friend)

Hector grinned at me shutting the safe. "Let us hope Ranger think so too, Si?"

I groaned and hid my face in my hands. God, like he needed to remind me. Hector slung one arm over my shoulders and led me back out of the room slowly. "We believe in you Chica, el jefe believe in you; you believe in yourself now Si?"

I nodded slowly taking a deep breath waiting while he opened the door to the room that would take us back into the hallway. "And if you need help, you call Si? It no matter _where_ you are." Hector gave me another long look and I think I was starting to get this ESP thing down.

I nodded and threw my arms around him in a quick hug before stepping away.

"Now get lost," Hector grinned at me and shoved his hands into his pockets and turning on his heel returned to his office.

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to be continued...


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes: **_ Almost done with Steph's POV, and then it's back to Present day Ranger for a bit!_

Thanks for the amazing reviews and follows/fave's everyone!

Apparently FF net is having issues and some people cant see this chapter! So I'm re-loading it! I hope that doesn't screw up anyone's reviews, if it does massive apologies I got them in my Email and I cherish every one of them!

I also fixed a few punctuations because I couldn't help but proof-read it again! (have I mentioned this story is un-beta'd? It is, so all mistakes are mine!)

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**Chapter Six**

_SPOV_

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When I got home after Hector's pep-talk I phoned the Martine's home in Miami—it was Monday night and the only night during the week that Julie didn't have either violin or soccer practice after school. It was a normal night for Julie to call me—the fact that she hadn't in two weeks wasn't lost on me. Especially now.

Ron answered the house phone and told me Julie was doing homework, and couldn't talk. My heart hammered in my chest and I clutched the phone to my ear with a shaking hand I struggled to keep my voice even. "Oh, well I understand, I wanted to tell her I'd be in town this weekend for business. I have a meeting in Miami," I lied, "Do you think I might be able to stop by and see her then? It's been so long." Ron's pause was slowly driving me insane. I felt like screaming before he finally told me in a tense voice that that was fine, but that Julie had a very busy school schedule so he didn't want her leaving the house over the weekend. I'd have to see here there—and I wouldn't be able to stay long. I agreed and quickly hung up before swiftly texting Julie's disposable phone. I held my phone in trembling hands for twenty minutes certain I'd throw up at any moment before Julie answered back. She'd heard me call since she was sitting at the table and had to pretend she was really tired and wanted to go to bed before she could answer me back.

I glanced at the clock, it was barely 6pm, if Ron believed that a twelve year old girl was sleepy enough to go to bed of her own accord that early in the evening how drugged up did he believe she was?

Ron was not happy about my plans to visit this weekend Julie told me, which I'd gathered from the long pause over the phone—if he knew I'd be there tomorrow morning to whisk Julie away from him he'd probably be even less happy, not that I gave a shit. Ron could rot in Hell. As long as his anger didn't affect Julie that was all I cared about, and hopefully if he thought I would be there Saturday and he had anything planned for Julie in the next few hours before I could get there he'd postpone his plans. Julie assured me via text that she was fine, and packed to go—she'd hidden a few clothing items in the backpack she was taking with her on the field trip and she couldn't wait to see me.

I couldn't wait to see her either, but the rest of the scenario made me want to throw up.

I slept like absolute crap that night, tossing and turning. When my alarm went off at 6:13am Tuesday morning I crawled from bed and stood in the shower for a good ten minutes waiting for my eyes to stop burning and my head to clear.

Just a little more than twenty-four hours to go.

My stomach was churning and I suddenly had a lot more sympathy for all the Maalox I'd had Morelli chugging over the years after my disasters. I was going to have stomach ulcers by the time this was over. I packed up my laptop in my leather bag shoved three days' worth of clothing, a swim suit, fresh underwear a spare bra and my stolen Ranger night-shirt with a clean pair of yoga pants into a small rolling suitcase with the bare essentials of make-up a two travel tooth brushes, hair gel and a few hair ties and zipped the case closed there was still room to spare on top. Then I grabbed a small carry on duffle bag and carried both items into the kitchen. I ate a banana leaning against the kitchen counter staring at my small apartment wondering if I'd ever see it again.

When my banana was finished I pulled the milk and orange juice out of the fridge and dumped the milk down the sink. Drank some OJ straight from the carton and then dumped that too. There wasn't much else in my fridge to go bad. I didn't want to leave a huge mess for which ever relative or Merry Man got stuck with the duty of cleaning out my apartment after I'd gone.

I gathered up my things and left my apartment hauling all my items down the hallway to the elevator and out to the lot. I tossed everything except my purse in the back behind the seat where it wouldn't be obvious to anyone walking by without looking down and started up the car.

I hit the local post office first, it was too early for it to be open but the pre-paid flat-rate envelopes I needed were available in the vending machine. I wasn't sure how many I would need so I bought twenty of them. I took them back to the car and stuffed the empty pre-paid envelopes into my laptop bag and put it back behind the seat again. Then I drove to a coffee shop I've driven past many times but never stopped at. I went through their drive-through getting myself a large coffee with cream and sugar and a scone with chocolate drizzle then I parked in the lot, not wanting to go inside and fished my bag out of the backseat and pulled out my laptop. I opened it in my lap and ate the scone while it booted up and connected to the coffee house wi-fi. I went to the USPS website and opened three PO Boxes in three different cities in various states with the only credit card I had left—my Rangeman one. I wrote down the address for the three PO boxes in a small notebook. Then I double checked flight times and booked a flight from Miami to Cleveland Ohio, and from Ohio to LA California, for the weekend also using my Rangeman card. Then I shut down the laptop and tucked it back into its case and back behind the seat.

I started up the car finishing the last dredges of my coffee and feeling slightly more human—but no less nervous and made my way onto the interstate. I arrived at Rangeman less the thirty minutes later and pulled into the parking garage without incident. My heart was palpitating in my chest like a rabbit being chased by those greyhounds at the track. I got out of my car leaving all the bags but my purse and headed upstairs offering a finger wave to the guys on monitor duty from the elevator.

I plopped down at my desk and Rex's cage immediately drew my attention.

Someone had taken a few sheets of printer paper cello-taped them together to create a full length backdrop on the backside of Rex's normally bare glass walls. I sat there for almost a full minute in disbelief taking in the tiny City skyline someone had doodled onto the blank papers with a thick felt-tip pen and then burst out laughing. On one side of Rex's house someone had drawn a giant cartoon lizard replete with a comically over-inflated body like a stuffed-tick and t-rex style too-short-to-be-useful-arms. Cartoon Godzilla was facing off opposite a giant Cartoon hamster with big black eyes an impressive hair-style and a cape flapping in the wind behind him. They were apparently battling over a cartoon version of the Rangeman building—complete with illuminated signage on the tower in big bubble letters. Cartoon Godzilla also had a small black SUV—not exactly drawn to scale in his hands.

I was still laughing, tears streaming down my face when Cal popped his head into my cubicle. "Everything alright Bombshell?" I nodded and gasped for air indicating the source of my amusement with one hand. Cal ducked his head down to my height and taking in the monster battle grinned.

"Who's the artist?" I gasped swiping at tears.

"Probably Bobby," Cal laughed. "You should have him do some more, he could put them in the break-room."

"Yeah Ranger would love that, I can just see his face when he came home and found cartoon hamsters all over his building!" That set us both off again for a good five minutes before Tank ambled by and shot Cal a narrow look.

"Gotta run, laughter in public ruins the bad-boy image." Cal informed me still grinning ear to ear.

I eyed the flaming skull glaring at me from his forehead and winked. "Think the bad-boy image is safe."

Once Cal was gone I had no choice but to get some work done—I was a mass of nerves anyway and while the laughing fit had helped immensely I needed the distraction. At four o'clock I couldn't take it anymore. I felt like I was going to rocket out of my seat and ping around the building like an over energized cartoon character every time one of the guys walked by or poked their head into my cubicle to say hello or ask me a question. I'd finished all the searches anyway. I started packing things up to leave and quickly made my way out of the building running into Tank in the hallway on my way to the elevator.

"Late lunch or early day?" He asked eying the purse thrown over my shoulder.

"Early day here, got a lead on this FTA and his paperwork is about to expire." It was a partial truth at least. I also had errands to run, and only hours left to do them.

Tank nodded and bid me farewell and I waved not trusting my voice and hopped into the elevator squeezing my eyes shut and trying not to think about this being the last time he said goodbye to me. I left Rangeman and headed down to Stark, Gap Tooth hadn't called me yet, but I hoped to God he had what I needed ready or I was going to shoot him…or well I would think about it, probably I would just burst into tears at this point.

I pulled up as close to the pawn shop door as I could get hoping my car wouldn't disappear—that was the last thing I needed right now, then I headed inside. Gap Tooth nodded to me when the sickly doorbell warbled my arrival to the room.

He held up a finger and walked into his office, I danced from foot to foot waiting the few moments he was gone wondering if I should pull out a gun just in case. When he came back though the only thing he had in his hands was a manila envelope. He dumped the contents onto the counter—they included the information sheet I'd filled out the previous day. Three ID's, all with my face and generic easy to forget names, I looked at each one but honestly didn't know enough about different state ID's to know what I should be looking for. I set the ID's aside and picked up Julie's new birth certificates, three in total, each matching one of the names on the driver's licenses with the same states for her place of birth. I was relieved to see Gap Tooth had chosen equally forgettable for Julie and generic average sounding father names on each of the three birth certificates. I'd been have afraid I'd find he'd labeled them Bruce Wayne—which is ridiculous since I'm pretty sure me and Lula are the only ones that call him Batman.

"We good?" Gap Tooth asked me when I tucked the items back inside the envelope.

I nodded slowly. "As long as they pass muster when I need them,"

"They'll pass," He assured me and then wished me good luck and headed back into his office shutting the door behind him. Huh, guess that was my cue to leave.

I left Stark pleased I still had a car and headed out of the downtown area and to the local post office store. I pulled out one of the fake ID's and cash and tucked both into my pocket slipping my cellphone and keys into my back pockets locking my car up I headed inside. Once inside I purchased three more PO Boxes paying cash and using my fake ID.

When I left the Post office it was almost six. I needed to kill a bit more time so the building would empty out a bit more but I didn't have much else to do. I headed to the airport and parked in the short stay lot and went inside to the ticket counter, I used a different fake ID to purchase an early flight leaving at 7am to Miami Florida paying cash. The non-stop flight would take less than three hours. I'd have one hour and fifty minutes after I landed to get a rental car and find the Museum. I went ahead and checked my carry-on bag with my clothes, then left the airport driving to a gas station I purchased three pre-paid phones and several phone cards. I activated the phones using my laptop and stolen wi-fi outside another coffee shop and sent a text message to Julie so she would have my new phone number—the second we got to Miami we'd have to ditch her current throw away since it could be linked to my real cellphone from our previous conversations. Then ditch the one I was using to contact the phone she had now, the second and third phone would never call or text either of the first two so there would be no connection, this way if we were accidently separated we'd have a safe way to call each other.

Last thing I needed to do was ditch the laptop I'd done all my searches on I got out of the car taking my laptop with me and taking a quick peek around the lot I chucked it over the chain-link fence and into the retention pond on the other side. It sank instantly with a splash of water and a wash of ripples.

I walked back to my car and sat in the parking lot wondering what to do now. I could go to my parent's house and mooch food, but even knowing I was leaving tomorrow—possibly forever I couldn't bring myself to do it. The relationship with my mother had been strained to say the least since I'd called it quits with Joe and started working for Rangeman full time again. My mother had almost stopped calling in the last two weeks, not that she didn't still feel the same way—she did, I just think a part of her finally realized I wasn't listening and she didn't know what else to say. My mother had a very narrow world view, and I think after thirty-odd years she was finally accepting that I didn't fit in it. Plus the last time I'd shown up for dinner she'd just happen to have a man over who was an eligible bachelor. I hadn't even feigned a phone call. I'd just gotten up politely told him I was sorry he got dragged into this mess and left. My mother hadn't called me over for dinner since. Thinking about that night I really didn't want to go over and deal with the possible fall out now.

What I _really_ wanted was _Ranger_.

I realized I was pulling into the Haywood building on auto-pilot a moment later. I sat in the parking deck cursing myself for a moment before making a decision. I didn't want to go home and sleep either, and I'd been able to get a better flight then I'd expected this morning. I doubted I'd sleep in my empty apartment—but I just might sleep on seven.

I climbed out of the car slowly, taking the empty black gym bag with me over one shoulder like it had clothes and crossed the deck to the elevator and fobbed my way up to seven giving the camera, and the guys on monitor duty a tiny finger wave. I tried to look natural. It wasn't like I hadn't pulled the Goldy-Locks thing and slept in Ranger's bed before, Hell I'd done it when Ranger was home…though that was a wholly different experience let me tell you.

The elevator opened on seven without stopping in between and I went straight to Ranger's door and opened it before slipping inside and locking it behind me. I dropped the empty gym bag on the floor set my purse on the sideboard in the entry way next to Ranger's empty key dish and headed straight for the kitchen.

There wasn't much since Ranger had been in the wind, but I managed to cobble together a decent dinner—peanut butter and olive sandwich on whole wheat bread and a Corona. It was like Ella had known I might stop by and stocked accordingly. After my dinner I headed straight for the bedroom stripping off my clothes and folding them carefully on top of the dresser I made my way to Ranger's bathroom and turned on the shower. I made the water as hot as I could stand and then stood under the spray for a good ten minutes until I started to feel a little dizzy between the beer and the heat. I adjusted the temperature to slightly more mild and worked up a rich lather of Ranger's amazing shower gel over every inch of my skin. I let my eyes close and just inhaled the steam and the familiar scent letting memories wash over me until tears pricked behind my closed eyelids and a different kind of heat fluttered in my belly.

_What the Hell?_ I figured, it wasn't like Ranger was in danger of walking in on me, and this might be the last time I ever get to surround myself in his scent. The touch of my own fingers changed on my skin, no longer seeking just to clean. My palms glided over my breasts cupping their slight weight, rolling my own drawn nipples between my fingers. My hands glided down my sides remember his touch, and then slipped through short wet curls with a set goal in mind. My eyes still closed tightly breathing in Ranger's intoxicating scent, trying to memorize the perfect fragrance that filled me with so many washes of emotion, so many memories tangled up in this simple scent.

Imaging my fingertips were his sent heat fluttering low between my legs, remembering the way his mouth felt sliding over mine every time we kissed, the way his tongue tasted diving into my mouth, the silky weight of his hair threaded through my fingers and tangled in my hands. I buried my fingers in my own clenching heat, pretending they were his, never once opening my eyes gasping his name and flashing back to our one night together long ago—the way he'd looked poised over me, the heat in his eyes and the desperate groan he'd uttered against my neck the moment he'd pushed inside of me while my hands clawed at his back. The way his hands had locked around my hips, holding me to him—possessively, reverently as he slid against me, moved over me—in me with an aching slowness that left me trembling harder after each thrust, desperate and thrashing beneath him in mere moments right on the edge, afraid he would stop, afraid he wouldn't, terrified that it was too much and the pleasure would fracture me in two and I would die.

I came hard around my own fingers before dissolving into tears sobbing with my back against the tile wall, slipping down its slick surface to rest sitting curled against the floor with the water beating down over my head and shoulders. I cried until I had nothing left and my head felt like it was going to explode from the steam and tears. Slowly I dragged myself up feeling slightly dizzy, which I blamed on the beer and the heat tinting my skin a bright pink.

I didn't bother setting the water to cold in an effort to cool my skin just shut it off and wrapped myself in one of Ranger's heavenly soft towels before leaving the bathroom. I sat on the edge of Ranger's bed contemplating stealing one of his shirts from the closet before deciding to simply run the towel through my wet curls and then tossing it into the hamper just inside his closet I turned back the sheets and slipped into his bed.

I was exhausted from lack of sleep the last few nights, my solo orgasm with Ranger's shower gel for inspiration and the subsequent crying jag and beer had left me feeling bone-less and sorta heavy at the same time. I set the clock and double checked the alarm before closing my eyes and falling instantly asleep wrapped in Ranger's soft sheets.

When the alarm went off the next morning I had several moments of disorientation trying to figure out where I was. Then it came back to me in a rush and I wash of nausea that had me wondering if I was going to puke on Ranger's high-pile rug.

_This was it._

I pulled myself up from Ranger's bed and stumbled into the bathroom to take care of nature, then eyeing my hair in the mirror I almost shrieked in fright. Wow. Probably best not to kidnap anyone with this particular look going on I'd probably be shot on sight. I jumped back in the shower and quickly tamed the kraken that was my hair with a serious dousing. Then climbed back out toweling off and opening the cabinet that contained duplicates of all my hair products and make-up supplies back home. I don't remember exactly when the collection of products under Ranger's sink grew to such epic proportions but it certainly came in handy in moments like this. I did the hair and make-up thing going for smooth curl free hair with the straightener from under the counter and pulling my now smooth locks into a low pony tail. Next I did my make-up keeping it simple and understated—the less memorable the better today, and probably every day for the rest of my life I realized frowning at my reflection in the mirror.

I put the products away under the sink and quickly wiped down the counter with a wad of toilet paper to remove the bit of makeup and hair gel that had gotten on its normally spot-less surface. Ranger was already going to be coming home to a mess, the last thing he needed was me trashing his bathroom too!

I put on the same clothes I'd worn the day before, except for the underwear—for that I went straight to the drawer in Ranger's closet that still held several pairs of Rangeman insignia underwear for me and slipped on a pair. One more thing to remember him by I reasoned and tossed the lacy panties I no longer needed into the hamper with the second damp towel from my shower. I frowned for a moment wondering what Ranger would think coming home to find I'd kidnapped his daughter and left my thong in his hamper. That discovery was probably a blank-face moment if ever there was one.

I stole a few more black shirts from his closet to stuff into my black bag and sighing and tugging on my CATs I left the bedroom turning off the light and made my way to the kitchen, there wasn't much to eat—course there'd be plenty downstairs in the break room on five curtesy of Ella, but I couldn't risk that, I was on a schedule and I needed to get out of the building soon before more Merry Men started arriving.

I decided to skip breakfast after a few moments staring into the almost empty abyss of Ranger's fridge and gathered up my things near the door. I made my way to the elevator without stopping to take one last look at Ranger's empty apartment and hit the button for five. It was still early—very early so the hallway was quiet. But that didn't mean the monitors were unmanned so I gave a little finger wave to the camera in the corner and then exited the elevator and made my way down the hallway with a purposeful walk to the room Hector had shown me just the day before.

I punched in the code for the room and went straight to the safe entering the combination with miraculously steady fingers. Once the door was open I unzipped the bag draped over my shoulder and started relocating stacks of bills into my bag. I counted out twenty stacks of 10,000 each and figured that was more than enough even though I'd barely made a dent in the safe. I shut the safe and then moved to one of the walls adding two guns to the black bag I was carrying, a 9mm Glock 19 and a small 22. I was infinitely glad I'd had the training at Rangeman over the last few weeks that I was comfortable not only shooting but disassembling and reassembling both weapons.

I zipped the bag shut and left the room moving down the hallway. The elevator was right there, barely fifty feet away, forty, thirty, I tried to remind myself to breath normally and look relaxed when I felt anything but, twenty, ten…I reach for the button to call the elevator and the doors popped open and Hal stepped out.

"Wow, you're up early,"

I tried to grin but I don't know if I pulled it off in my nervous state. "FTA," I offered in explanation.

"Need help?" Hal offered one of his hands keeping the elevator doors from closing between us, he eyed the black bag over my shoulder his eyes sweeping over me.

I sucked in a deep breath and blew it out and winked at him, God I hope this worked I really, _really_ didn't want to have to stun poor Hal again! "Nah, it's more fun this way! I'll call you if I blow anything up."

Hal started laughing and let the door go with a bark of "You do that,"

I kept myself standing in the middle of the elevator instead of slumping back against the wall in relief—after all I didn't want it to_ look_ like I was relieved I'd gotten past Hal. This was just a normal day, normal interactions—I was just walking out of the building with two unlicensed weapons and 200,000 in cash….nothing alarming about that!

The elevator door dinged open in the garage and I half expected to find an waiting brigade of Rangemen ready to detain me for questioning—but the lot was empty. I made my way to my car and climbed inside, turned it on and backed out of my space before swinging out of the building all without being stopped.

I didn't start breathing half-way normal until I was a good ten blocks away, and didn't see anyone following me. I kept waiting for my phone to ring, or several black Rangeman SUV's to appear behind me-but none of that happened. I made it all the way to the parking lot of the post office without incident and quickly opened my black bag and pulled the guns apart into several pieces stuffing them in different envelopes I sealed them and addressed the fronts for the correct PO boxes.

Then I split up money wrapping a few folds of bills in Ranger's stolen black shirts to pad there content and sealed those envelopes as well and addressed them for PO boxes. The other packages I stuffed shirts into and sealed them up before addressing those as well. Then I dropped a third of the packages in the drop at the front of the post office, drove four blocks to a second mail box drop off for the second third, and mailed the last few a few blocks from the interstate. Once the packages were on their way I hopped onto the turnpike and raced to the Newark airport. I parked in long term parking-knowing my car wouldn't stay there long. Either Rangeman or the police would grab it before long.

I left my car and made my way into the airport after a short shuttle ride. After the security checkpoint which went super fast since I had only a purse and nearly empty gym bag containing a few black shirts I was allowed to roam the terminal area. I purchased a coffee and breakfast with cash and ate quickly slipping my cell-phone on silent mode into the backpack of a man siting next to me and distracted by his own mobile device.

One tracker down.

Thirty minutes later I boarded the non-stop flight to Miami, Florida.

* * *

**to be continued...**


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: **_Not mine!_

**Notes:** Alright it's about to get wicked confusing! You're going to be jumping back and forth between Steph's time and Ranger's time. Both will be told in the number of Days since Steph/Julie ran away, so Steph is starting in this chapter with Day one (while poor Ranger is on Day 137) Edit: I've added dates to the numbered days per request because people were getting confused!

...hope it makes sense!

Ready for this? ; D

**Huge thanks for the reviews, follows and support!**

* * *

**Chapter Seven**

Stephanie's POV

_(Four months prior)_

_November 13, 2013 - Day One_

* * *

I landed in Miami ten minutes shy of 10am with a sick stomach and nails bitten down to raw skin. I'd like to blame the stomach trouble on a rough flight or shaky landing—but in truth we'd experienced neither, guess it was just me.

I had less than an hour and fifty minutes to secure my rental car with the correct fake ID, pick up Julie. Then we needed to go shopping, pack, get our decoy hotel using one of the fake ID's not connected to our departure, turn Julie into a boy, and make it to the departure port by five pm for our perfect get-away.

_No pressure right?_

At least there was shopping involved, that had to help my nerves. I closed my eyes and did some deep breathing and I felt a little better by the time we'd taxied to the gate.

* * *

It took me fifteen minutes to grab the shuttle from the Miami airport terminal to the Hertz rental car office. Checking in my bag the day evening before my flight meant I didn't have to wait at the baggage carrousel with the other flight passengers because my single black suitcase had taken an earlier flight to my end destination the night before and was waiting to be claimed on the floor of the luggage office. I didn't wait for the attendant to be through with the business suit who was missing half his portfolio in his checked bag and having a cow—I just grabbed it and hit the door almost running.

The car rental went smoothly and in less than twenty minutes with my fake ID and a few signatures I had the keys to a nicer car then I could normally afford in my hands and was out the door once more. I chucked my suitcase and black bag into the back seat and pulled the vehicles GPS system retrieving the tiny notebook from my purse to punch in the address for the museum. I should have plenty of time to meet Julie—but I was worried that Miami traffic probably could give Jersey traffic in the morning a run for its money so I didn't want to waste any time.

When I was less than a quarter mile from the museum I found a coffee shop on the corner, pulled through the drive through and then parked the car at the edge of the lot in the adjacent grocery store lot where anyone would be hard pressed to recognize much more than the most basic facial features entering or exiting either the coffee house or any of the stores along the strip.

While I drank my black n white mocha latte and waited for the right time to leave the car and start walking I fished the fake lip gloss GPS tracker out of the very bottom of my purse and let it sit on my thigh. Then I ran through every step of our get-away and false-trail mission one more time in my head. I knew if we just tried to fly under the Radar Rangeman would just look that much harder for us—but if we left obvious clues, and GPS trackers all over the place they'd have no choice but to track down each lead we left them hopefully buying us time to get away quietly.

When it was twenty minutes to the time I was supposed to meet Julie I palmed the tracker, stuck Ranger's ball-cap over my head and exited the car with the black carry-on duffle bag so I could give Julie a black shirt to change into and the second ball-cap shoved inside. As I crossed the lot to the sidewalk to walk the short distance to the museum I stuffed the keys to the rental into my back pocket slipped the lip gloss tracker through the cracked back window of a nearby vehicle quickly walking away before the guy who owned it hustled out of the dry cleaning place and got back in his car to drive away.

Two trackers down.

* * *

_Ranger's POV_

_March 29, 2014 (Day 137) _

_Present Day_

* * *

Ranger stared at the FBI agent over his desk lips twisted in a scowl of displeasure. He wanted nothing more at this moment then to strangle the shit out of this self-important smug asshole.

"As I'm sure you've already been informed Mr. Manoso, but we'll cover it again. Neither you nor anyone affiliated with your company is allowed to have anything to do with this investigation, or the search for Ms. Plum. Surely you can understand the delicate situation this puts us in, not only is the victim your biological daughter, but Ms. Plum was employed by your company—escaped the country with cash stolen from your business and used your company resources to access information about the victim and her family's financial records, their work history. She even ran background checks on Julie."

_Julie?_ Ranger schooled his features into a blank mask. _Why the Hell would his Babe have bothered to run a background check on Julie?_ She was a good kid, she had no record, she didn't have a credit history, she wasn't even twelve years old for Christ sake! Still, if his Babe had run the search it was probably a good idea to do it again, he needed to see if Tank or Hector or anyone else had picked-up on that fact.

"Then there's the lawsuit against you and your company brought on by Mr. Martine," the sandy haired agent continued.

Ranger bit back a snarl, his jaw clenched and his glare hardened. Julie was missing and that pendejo spent more time filing a lawsuit then worrying about the location of his step-daughter. Julie's promise to send documents explaining everything to Rangeman rang in his ears. She'd promised to send another video—apparently interrupted in recording the first one before she could give them the reason she'd run away judging by the sounds Hector and Cal had isolated in the background of the video Stephanie had come home and Julie had slapped her laptop shut ending the recording.

"As I'm sure you're aware being in possession of evidence in this case could be considered impeding a Federal Investigation." Ranger's blank mask never slipped but Tank shifted against the wall behind the agent. The large man's arms tightening over his chest his hands clenching into tight fists in the only outward display of anger in the room.

"And as I informed _your_ office when I left the message for the lead investigator Agent Fuller on Ms. Plum's case. The video was brought to _my_ office and addressed to _me_ personally. We didn't know what it was or that it was related to the case until we viewed it."

Agent Eric Luent pursed his lips, his posture stiff in the chair opposite Ranger's desk—obviously the man before him didn't appreciate being reminded he wasn't the lead investigator on this case. He reeked of a man desperate to make a large bust, to break open a case himself with a high-profile collar so he could make a name for himself. Since Luent outwardly appeared to be pushing close to his early-forties he'd been waiting for a long time, and deeply resented it.

"And you expect me to believe you have no idea who dropped off the letter at the front door? How do I know it wasn't Ms. Plum herself and you're covering for her—you do have a close relationship with the kidnapper do you not Mr. Manoso?"

Ranger inhaled slowly keeping his blank mask in place reminding himself it wouldn't help Stephanie or Julie to beat this guy to death with his bare hands—no matter how satisfying it might feel at the moment to feel something break under his hands. "Stephanie was a close friend and colleague, but it wasn't Stephanie that dropped off the video I can assure you,"

"You're positive? You willing to testify to that?"

Ranger resisted the urge to grind his teeth letting Tank answer for him instead, at this moment the seething mountain of a man probably had better control. "It wasn't Stephanie because we got the drop off on the security camera in the Lobby and it's clearly some balding forty year old white dude." Tank growled.

"A private courier service?" Agent Luent snapped the question eyes narrowed.

"We don't know yet, there was no uniform and we haven't identified him from the video. He didn't have to give ID to drop off the package, it wasn't necessary."

"How do you know he's not involved?"

"We don't yet, but we'll find out as soon as we've identified him from the video."

Luent all but sneered in response. "That won't be necessary since you won't be identifying him; as I've said before—you're not involved in this investigation. We'll bring Ms. Plum in."

"You're doing a bang up job so far." Tank offered and Agent Luent's face darkened.

"It's only a matter of time before she makes a mistake, before the kid gets a chance to run. No one is perfect."

"Julie's not going to run; she sent the video—in it she confesses to planning the whole thing with Stephanie, they ran away together—but the video ended before she could tell us why."

Agent Luent scoffed. "It's been four months, she's hardly reliable at this point, God only knows the psychological trauma this ordeal has added on her—"

"The Hell do you mean Psychological Trauma?! You make it sound like Stephanie would hurt her!" Lester snarled from the couch leaning towards the agent with a vicious expression.

"Ms. Plum _kidnapped_ Ms. Martine, hardly an innocent action. It's obvious they formed some kind of unhealthy relationship during the time they were in Edward Scrog's hands, he went after them when he was intent on finding you Mr. Manoso; isn't that correct?"

Ranger's scowl darkened. "It is." it was the last thing he wanted to be reminded of right now.

"It's obvious from Julie's medical records and the accounts of Mr. Martine she was suffering from a severe form of PTSD, and God only knows what the mental condition of Ms. Plum was at the time, Perhaps Ms. Plum is just as delusional as the kid, maybe they think they're still running form Scrog—long story short I don't give a shit, I'm just here to do a job before Ms. Plum's delusions turn violent."

"All my employees are required to pass mental screening and psychological profiling to garner employment. I assure you Stephanie isn't capable of hurting my daughter." He had to fight to keep his tone even. "Stephanie taking Julie out of Miami means one or both of them was in danger in some way—real danger. Julie's message confirms that suspicion. If we could drop the charges I'm certain they'd be home on the next flight."

Luent stared at him for a long moment. "That's out of the question, it's a Federal matter now. You're certain you haven't had contact with Ms. Plum since her disappearance? You seem to know an awful lot about what her plan is; her mental state."

"As I stated, Stephanie and I are close friends—which is why Scrog targeted her to begin with. Julie said herself in the video we've handed over to your investigation that she won't come back without Stephanie—and something else is going on, something we all missed."

"And this is the only thing you received? No letter of ransom, no other communications?"

"There wasn't a map with a big red '_We are Here'_ dot on it if that's what you're asking." Lester snarled from the couch against the wall where he'd taken up residence after escorting Agent Luent upstairs from the lobby. Ranger was well aware that the show of force by his men was an obvious display of their displeasure with the Agent and with their being removed from the investigation despite their resources. Having met and spent any amount of time with Agent Luent he felt an instantaneous dislike for the man which only strengthened with each minute spent in his company.

Obviously they'd kept the fact that they'd made copies of everything they'd had on-hand and everything they'd uncovered for themselves before turning it over to the FBI's team a secret. The FBI might not want Rangeman's help in any official capacity but he'd be damned if he was going to simply hand over any possible link to his Babe and Julie without investigating it himself where-ever it might lead him.

"Well, if you get anything else you be sure to hand it over to me right away," Agent Luent's slip was not lost on any of them and Lester scowling pulled himself up from the couch to escort the prick back downstairs and out of the building.

"Well, that went great." Tank groused. "Guys a real charmer."

Ranger scowled his agreement at the larger man and popping open his top desk drawer pulled out the copied file of all their paper trails of his Babe's disappearing act. "We need to run a search on Julie, if we haven't already."

"We didn't," Tank informed him voice tight, his expression showing annoyance that he might have missed something so obvious.

"-and get Silvo on the line, I want to talk to him about hacking into Julie's medical records. I wanna know what the Hell Luent was talking about, last time I spoke to Julie she seemed fine, and Steph said she was handling the Scrog thing better then she was, if she was really suffering from PTSD even mildly I doubt Steph wouldn't have known about it."

"You got it Bossman." Tank was about to excuse himself when there was a sharp rap of knuckles on the door to Ranger's office. Tank opened it to find Hector on the other side, his face grim.

"Hector." Ranger eyed the slight man—by general Rangeman standards at least.

"Vengo a pedirte perdón." (I come to beg your forgiveness)

Ranger's eyebrow crawled towards his hairline. "Para mostrar Stephanie la caja fuerte?" (for showing Stephanie the safe?) He'd already seen the video, and while he found it odd Hector would ask Steph to carry a box of detonators to the safe—detonators anywhere near his Babe? Really? He scowled just thinking about it. He had accepted Tank's evaluation of the whole FUBAR'd mess as wrong place right time. Hector had needed an extra pair of hands, and since he often took Steph on installs showing her the vault room and where they kept some of their more volatile and illegal equipment now that she was a full time employee made sense; Hector had had no idea Stephanie was planning to disappear. No one was happy with the outcome—but he couldn't blame Hector he reasoned anymore then he could blame Hal the time Stephanie had stunned him…with his own gun no less. His Babe was resourceful and crafty, everyone at Rangeman had to give her that.

Hector shook his head no slowly and stepped into the room slipping past Tank's lurking form still blocking half the door-way. The later man crossing his arms tightly over his massive chest and looking more than a little imposing to go with his sour mood. "Something else you want to confess to Hector?" Tank growled shutting the door to the office with more force than necessary, the resulting bang like a gunshot in the enclosed space.

"Si, Necesitaba que creas en ella otra vez, los otros hombres, la esperanza perdida, pero lo he encontrado de nuevo." _(I needed you to believe in her again, the other men, they lost hope, but they have found it again.)_

Ranger was on his feet and around his desk in a single heartbeat, the mouth of his gun digging into Hectors throat a nanosecond later an angry snarl on his lips. "Where is she?!"

"I do not know, only that she is safe—they are safe." Hector replied calmly.

"You knew the whole time?!" Tank roared behind them. "I ought to gut you like a Fucking fish!"

"I did not, I do not." Hector shook his head marginally. "She ask for my trust, I give it. Absolutamente." He dropped his chin pressing the gun farther into his skin meeting and holding Ranger's blazing stare. "I die for her el jefe, no question. si ese es su precio, tomarlo." _(If that is your price, take it.)_

"I did not know Julie was involved, lo juro, _(I swear)_ if I did I would have pushed harder—I would not have let Chica out of my sight, I have gone with them. I was searching for the threat to our Chica when the call came in from Miami."

"Jesus, Hector." Tank growled. "Four fucking months and you didn't think to tell me any of this?" He ran a hand over his shaved head in an agitated gesture.

"She wanted only you," Hector was still staring at him, gaze never wavering from a hard glare that had sent larger men into damn near hysterics.

"Ranger," Tank said after a moment then, "Ric, if you're going to shoot him can we at least do it someplace that doesn't have carpet."

He hadn't even realized the muzzle of his gun was still pressed to the underside of Hector's chin, when he lowered his hand there was a red imprint lingering in Hector's throat. Jesus, he needed to get a grip, he hadn't been this on edge since—fuck since Scrog, and the last time Stephanie had been in danger.

"Anything else you want to tell me?" He snarled putting his gun away.

"Yeah, since we're finally sharing with the rest of the class." Tank barked glaring holes in the back of Hector's skull.

"Si, we go see a man on Stark about paperwork." Hector informed them.

"Shit." Tank said.

* * *

**TBC...**


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer:** Not mine.

**Notes:** I hope I got this right.

Ranger's a little on edge in these next few chapters-and lets face it he's got a temper.

He didn't kill anyone I promise, no one panic...

PS Julie and Stephanie are a BLAST to write together, I hope everyone else agrees!

* * *

**Chapter Eight**

Ranger's POV

_March 29, 2014 - Day 137_

(Present Day)

* * *

Both black SUVs slid to a stop in front of the Gold and Gun Pawn shop on the corner of Marks and Stark in a symphony of revving engines and squealing brakes. The Cayenne mere seconds ahead of the Ford Escape, the driver side door ripped open spilling a furious Ranger gun drawn at his side in full swat gear from the Cayenne before the wheels had completely stopped. An equally tense and loaded for bear collection of Merry Men echoing him on all sides, making a show in absolute force on the faded blacktop pavement in front of the tired mostly deserted strip mall.

The glass and iron barred door to the shop slammed back into the wall with a bang sufficient to drowned the sickly warbled 'biiiiiiing' of the customer alert.

Two men stood behind the counter when they entered. The first—a much younger man, reached instinctively for the small of his back the moment the door flew open but quickly froze mid-reach. Tank and Lester's weapons beside him already aimed at the man's head probably having something to do with the re-thinking of that particular action. The second man had barely moved beyond looking up when they entered his shop. He eyed the guns pointed at them, then jerking his chin in the direction of his office to Ranger and holding up his palms to Tank and Lester's guns offered a quick, "I know what you're here for, put those away," before turning on his heel and moving toward the back room.

Lester shot him a look as he moved to follow that said they agreed on one thing today at least: this guy either had serious cajones or was just plain stupid to ignore Ranger's outright anger and the guns pointed at his head. Either way he would be careful. Lester nodded, message received, and inched back, his gun still raised but finger no longer riding the trigger so Ranger could slip by him and follow the owner into the office. The owner, and undoubtable the man Hector had spoken of used a key from his scuffed desk drawer to open a locked file cabinet and picking through the scarce paperwork jammed into the water-stained manila folders kept within found what he was looking for.

Ranger watched the man intently from the opened doorway of the office—blocking most of the available space with his frame—but it was the rage rolling off him in barely contained waves that held the other man in place when he turned to face him once more. Remaining by the file cabinets he extended his hand offering Ranger a single piece of paper at fingertip length.

"I was starting to wonder if the rumors were wrong." The Gap toothed Pawn shop owner who went by the nickname 'Cred' for 'credentials' in certain circles was watching him, an almost disinterested casualness to his demeanor that bespoke of too much experience dealing with high-pressure sales tactics and un-lawful types to be easily swayed even in the face of a man who brought most men to their knees cowering in fear.

"Meaning _What_?" Ranger snarled taking the photocopied two page form from the man's hand still studying the store owner's face instead of the paper now in his fingers.

"Something that _sweet_ walked away from me, I wouldn't wait so long to retrieve it. What she up and leave you for, get caught with your dick in another woman's hand?"

He didn't even recall punching the man—only that he was laid out on the filthy carpet in the back office a moment later both arms raised to protect his face. Tank had placing a restraining hand on his arm and was exerting enough pressure to almost break bone. "Ric, take a moment—_Now_." His friend urged him expression grim. He snarled jerking his arm free and when he went to drag a hand over his face trying to collect himself he realized there was blood on his knuckles. _Shit._

"You kill him?" Les asked leaning one hip against the filthy glass counter in the main room looking like he could give a shit either way. The other store's occupant was now sitting hands between his knees in one of the dirty chairs pressed against the wall behind the counter his 45 on the glass top between them. The chair has a view of the street through the smeared and dirty front glass window, and a clear line of sight to the small television crammed onto one of the back shelves against the wall. The muted voices of some daytime soap hummed through the room just under the pressing silence as everyone waited.

"No," Ranger answered, pretty certain without stopping to check first. He continued pacing the short space against the counter working to contain his rage while Tank righted the owner and tossed him into a chair behind his own desk. When Ranger prowled back into the tight space beside his hulking comrade Cred raised his hands in surrender still breathing heavy blood leaking from one nostril and the corner of his lip.

"My bad man, my bad."

_Damn Straight_.

"Talk." He snarled.

"It's like this, your woman comes in months ago—leaves her keeper in the car. I could see him through the window, see he didn't like it. Tells me she wants identifications—the good stuff, times three." Cred stopped to swipe at the blood leaking down his chin. "Fuck man, cause I don't have enough dental issues without the help." He grimaced.

"Better keep talking or dental is going to be the least of your concerns." Tank growled, knuckles cracking in the silence.

"Shit. What is it with you guys? I'm just trying to run a business, I got four mouthy momma's all begging cash every other week. I knew this was bad business—but I needed the cash, been a slow quarter you know?"

"Your child support issues aren't my problem."

"Maybe try keeping it in your pants," Tank said. "I hear that's a bonafid way to keep from exponentially compounding your problems in that area."

"Maybe not so much with the big words," Lester's voice floated to them from the front room.

"Shit," Cred mumbled at the insult.

Ranger took the time of their exchange to glance over the paperwork in his hands. A photocopied form in his Babe's handwriting specifying the need for three ID's—for State she'd checked 'Any'. Under additional forms she'd checked _Passport,_ and next to the line marked 'Other' she'd written '_Birth Certificates'. _

The second page was a photocopy of three different state driver's licenses, all with his Babe's face and different names. Next to each ID someone—most likely Cred himself had handwritten names, two girl names sharing the same last name as Stephanie's fake ID, and one obvious boy's name, again sharing the same last name as one of her ID's.

"Did you supply her with Passports?"

"Sorta," Cred edged looking nervous suddenly.

Ranger felt his teeth set and his jaw clench. Fuck, in four months they could be _anywhere_. There was nothing on the Passports in the paperwork he held in his hand. "Explain," he growled.

"Do it quickly," Tank added.

"She asked for passports, wanted two—one for her one for her kid—I told her they'd never be ready in time." Cred opened a small safe that looked bolted to the floor and apparently held the stores cash—and probably the only real diamonds on the premise. He pulled out another small white envelope and tossed it onto the desk, not even attempting to hand it to Ranger or Tank this time. "Photocopies of the Passports I sent."

"Sent?" Tank barked, and hope curled through the pit of his stomach at the word. They'd spent days tracking bogus PO boxes and staking out mail locations only to find his Babe had sent laundry to most of them. His fingertips tightened on the papers in his hand—obviously the real PO boxes—the ones she'd actually need to access the Passports.

Steph was on camera from across the street of the local mail drop closest to Rangeman the morning before her flight to Miami dropping packages into a mail box. The FBI and Rangeman had both traced the outgoing destination of every package picked up and processed from that day almost two weeks later when the PO boxes that she'd purchased using her real name and Rangeman funds proved to be dead ends. No one ever came to retrieve the mail at those locations—and the only thing that arrived in the boxes were a few pre-paid envelopes stuffed with his own black shirts.

When Lester had made a crack about Steph taking the phrase 'airing his dirty laundry in public' to a whole new level he'd barely refrained from punching his cousin in the mouth. Lester's go to reaction in times of stress might be jokes, but Ranger had no patience for them right now.

"Now explain the 'Sorta' portion of that statement." Ranger growled.

"Sorta because your woman only gave me half the information I needed for the transaction—no photo of the kid, being the biggest problem. Then two days later your man shows up telling me he wants to talk—I tell him I don't know nuthing! She was very clear on that point: Manoso the only one I give this information to, no one else—or they never find my body. Your man he makes the same threats, he breaks three of my fingers," Cred held up his right hand and several of them did look a little off putting. "He put a bullet in my foot and threaten to add one to my knee before he start removing organs with his knife," Cred shrugs, "I'm a practical kinda man, I believe him. I figure if I'm dead I can't finish the passports so I tell him about my problems. Next day he shows up with the photo I need, and also real papers—not the stuff I buy that passes off in most inspections—real passports jackets, he tells me to use them, and to add two more to her order because she will need backups, just in case. He tell me to watch who I speak to in the neighborhood because he is listening very carefully, and then he leave."

_SonofaBitch! _He needed to make a phone call.

"Get those addresses and the names on those passports," Ranger ordered before he slammed the front door open into the wall of the shop so hard the glass fractured in its frame. Once again in the lot he jerked his phone from his pocket and hit speed dial.

Bobby answered on the first ring. "Yo,"

"Tell me he isn't dead." Ranger launched right into it.

"He's not dead," Bobby sighed. "But he isn't pretty,"

"I didn't ask you to get him ready for Prom," Ranger snarled into the phone. "Is he awake?"

Bobby paused, "Sorta, if I say yes are you gonna come 'round and hit him again?" The disapproval was palpable.

Ranger pursed his lips, narrowing his eyes glaring into the empty sky over Stark Street. He was seriously losing his shit. It wasn't unusually for him to discipline his men for screw ups by ordering them to the mats to face-off with him-but he didn't usually beat the shit out of them on the floor of his office. Even he felt like he'd crossed a line. "Ask him if the passports had trackers," He added in a calmer tone.

Bobby didn't ask 'what passports,' he simply turned his face away from the phone and relayed Ranger's question to the other man in the room. He could barely make out the muffled 'Si' in the background.

Tank appeared beside him, Lester at his flank. "Where to Bossman?" Tank asked.

"Home," Ranger replied snapping the phone shut and moving toward the vehicle.

"Hector put trackers in the passport linings he gave to Cred?" Tank asked as they climbed into the Cayenne.

Ranger didn't say anything but the set of his jaw must have answered anyway.

"Guess you should have let him finish speaking before you buttoned him up." Tank said voice carefully neutral.

"Shut the fuck up."

"Yes Sir."

Ranger glared at the larger man.

_Asshole_.

* * *

**Stephanie's POV –**

_November 13, 2013 - Day One_

* * *

It didn't take me long to reach the sidewalk corner on the same block as the museum. The building itself was pretty average, a mixture of concrete and glass with a modern edge and a sidewalk lined with—what else, palm trees. I stood on the corner pretending to talk on my burner phone in case anyone happened to walk by, or was stopped long enough at the red light to wonder what someone was doing standing on a street corner in downtown Miami in broad day light—I didn't want to garner attention by looking lost. I didn't want anyone to remember I'd been here at all.

Ten minutes and several narrowly averted panic attacks later a thin girl with long dark hair hanging loose around her shoulders and very familiar mocha colored skin started walking down the sidewalk at a brisk but still casual pace. Even from this distance I recognized her and since the traffic flow was with me as luck would have it I crossed the street, and met her on the sidewalk trying to hide my nervous jitters with a smile.

"Julie."

Jules immediately wrapped her arms around my waist and held on for a moment, then just as swiftly let go and took my hand shifting the backpack over her shoulder I offered her a hand squeeze and a quick 'let's go' and we moved down the sidewalk away from the museum and back towards the car.

"Did you locate the trackers?" I asked.

"I think so," Julie told me, "But I figured we should probably just stash my whole purse on the second bus—just to be safe."

I agreed. If there was even a single GPS tracker on either of us this would be a short trip. "Here's your hat," I informed her fishing the plan black ball cap out of the bag slung over my shoulder. "Give me your backpack," when she did I quickly stuffed the thing inside my gym bag a little surprised at its weight.

"You should try carrying my books," Julie informed me.

We made it to the car without incident and I sucked in a deep breath wondering if my heart was going to beat like a rabbit on a sugar high all day and what the chances were that I'd have a heart attack before this was over. Then there wasn't time to worry about it because we were in the car and pulling out into traffic to move half-way across town. We pulled into a hotel, and I quickly ran in leaving Julie in the running car as close to the doors as possible and grabbed a room for a single night with my Rangeman card. When I climbed back in the car Julie was practically bouncing in her seat.

"Shopping?" What sounded like a sliver of excitement crawling into her words. _A girl after my own heart._

"You got it." I replied.

I've heard Miami has some pretty amazing shopping if that's your thing—and believe me when I have the cash, or credit, to spend shopping is completely and totally my thing. But we were on a tight budget, and even stricter schedule. Even knowing that I couldn't help but feel a niggle of disappointment when we parked in front of one of Miami's many Walmarts and headed inside—Julie now wearing one of Ranger's black shirts to match mine, her hair pulled into a bun at the back of her head just under the back edge of Ranger's ball-cap.

Who knows maybe wearing Batman's things would give us good karma—it seemed to be working for parking spaces at least. We grabbed a cart and as quickly and efficiently as possible trolled the aisles grabbing items we couldn't live without—and for once in my life that didn't include a single pair of ridiculously expensive high heeled shoes I had almost no reason to wear.

Jeans, shirts, two sun dresses, two bathing suits for Jules and another one for me, underwear (the plain Jane cotton kind that comes in a plastic bag, not the fun lacy kind. I reminded myself there was no point in lace—there was no one to see it. Maybe ever again. God, was that ever depressing!) socks, and a few bathroom essentials, hair clippers and the last thing we grabbed was two medium sized rolling suitcases—easily maneuvered and small enough we could pick them up and move quickly if need be.

We worked together to check-ourselves out in one of the self-checkout lanes and I paid with cash inserted into the machine and collected our change. Then we rolled the laden car out to the rental and opening both suit cases in the trunk quickly started opening bags and removing hangers and tags and tossing things into them. Once the cases were full, the car was put away and the bags of tags and hangers was tossed in the trash we climbed back in the car and left the store lot. It was just pushing 12:30 pm.

We drove straight to the airport, parked the car in long term, leaving Julie's cell phone under the seat. We grabbed our bags and walked to the bus stop next to the terminal parking lot shuttle that would take flight-seekers to the airport proper. I tried to take note of the camera's lining the shuttle's glass and metal cover and keep my back to them and my face turned away and with a quick whisper of words Julie did as well.

Ten minutes later a city bus arrived and we rolled our suitcases up the stairs and took seats half-way down the row together on the left side so the Camera's couldn't easily catch our faces on accident as we sat down through the window. They'd still track us this far—the flights I'd booked from Miami to California using my credit card assured they'd search the airport and camera recordings when we they got this far—but city transportation has it's bonuses especially in a City like Miami. There were lots of bus lines, lots of times and plenty of patrons to get lost in the shuffle. We rode for twenty minutes before departing the first bus—but not before I'd fished a suspicious looking lip gloss in a color Jules swore she'd never buy out of the bottom of her purse and stuffed it down the rim of her seat. We waited at the bus stop for seven and a half minutes for the next ride and stashed Julie's first burner phone in the gap between the seats.

Four buses later we walked three blocks to a cheap motel using fake ID with Julie waiting outside hidden from sight between the pool house building and the office I grabbed the room key and Julie and we went into our room pulling the curtains and flipping on lights.

"Okay," I announced. And Julie's eyes slid to the Walmart bag we hadn't stuffed into our suitcases which were now sitting against the hotel wall, waiting for our next departure.

"We don't have to do this." I told her.

"It's all part of the plan," Julie yanked the ball-cap off her head and sighed. "It'll grow back." I wasn't sure if she was telling me, or giving herself a little pep-talk so I remained silent, if our situations were reversed I'd be in tears right now. "Right, wasting time." Julie informed the room and a damn-near-scary blank face to rival Ranger's slammed into place on her normally sunny features.

I grabbed her and hugged her as tight as I could and just held on for what felt like hours.

"On second thought," Julie sniffed face pressed tightly to my chest, "Maybe you should do it, I don't think I can."

I nodded and we both moved to the tiled sink space that was separated from the rest of the room by an open doorway, but close enough to the walled off toilet and shower to not be inconvenient. I shoved the coffee maker aside and pulled out the clippers from the bag plugging them in after wrestling with the plastic case for a tense moment and a few choice words.

When I looked up Julie was wearing a brave face. "Not too short, okay?"

We both knew that wasn't really an option.

"You sure?" She just nodded a little too quickly and told me to get it over with.

"Only thing worse than having boy hair would be having boy hair and getting caught."

_Right. Priorities. Smart girl._ I added one of the guards—just taking a wild guess which one to use and realized my hands were shaking. "I can't do it." I said dropping the clippers against the counter and pressing my hands to the countertop's edge bending far enough forward that my head was almost level with my knees to combat the dark spots swimming in front of my eyes and the clanging bells between my ears.

Suddenly Julie was snickering next to me, the snickers turned to giggles and then morphed into outright laughter complete with tears streaming down her face. "Omigod look at us! We can kidnap ourselves, steal thousands of dollars and plan to flee the country without a problem; but we're both worried if we shave my head that my Dad is going to kill us!"

"They'll never find all my body parts," I informed the tile floor sucking in a tight breath. And then I started laughing too.

When we pulled ourselves together finally Julie had to swipe tears off her cheeks and squeezing her eyes shut she handed me the clippers and I turned them on. It took less time than I thought after the first pass—which I admit was a two person effort, my hand hovered in the air shaking like a leaf for probably a good two minutes before Julie said "Fuck it," grabbed the clippers and sheared off one long pass and a good twelve inches of glossy perfect black hair fluttered to the floor. After that it was pretty much a done deal, there was no going back from the reverse Mohawk look.

I used a shorter guard on the sides and then by mutual agreement Julie took the scissors that came with the case and we cut my still semi-straight locks (thanks to Miami's humidity) to just above my shoulders. We couldn't go much shorter then that because when the humidity hit full blast without the right products I was gonna look like a poodle. I mentally added extra de-frizzing gel and a top of the line hair straightener to my mental list of things to buy the second we landed and turned to look at our joint reflections in the hotel mirror and my breath caught.

Julie was staring at herself over the sink, even in the girls t-shirt (having removed the plan black one so it wouldn't be covered in hair) between the set of her jaw and the natural lines of her face and coloring she looked _just_ like Ranger—A pre-teen version of Batman.

_Holy Shit this might work._

She must have noted the resemblance too because she turned to me and giving me a perfect blank faced glare announced in a gravelly voice that belonged to someone who smoked two packs a day: "I'm Batman!"

Which sent us into gales of almost hysterical laughter all over again.

"Somehow I doubt Batman would wear a hello-kitty shirt." Julie stared down at her own chest and grinned. "Maybe if he lost a bet." She said.

"Doubtful." I answered. He'd probably just kill whoever he lost that particular bet too—or pack them off to a third world country in a box. She shrugged and grabbed the bag off the bed and moved to the other side of the bathroom door to change. It didn't take her long. Less than two minutes later Jules came out wearing wide-leg guys jeans, the legs of which almost completely covered her non-gender-revealing tennis shoes. And a large boys t-shirt with sponge-bob on the front. I'd wanted to go for plan but Jules had assured me that nobody wore plan t-shirts these days, especially not boys.

She leaned against the doorframe and gave me a honest-to-god smirk that looked waaaay to much like something Ranger would flash me and said "Sup?" and I swear to God if I didn't know any better I'd have thought she was a boy. "Good thing I'm flat chested huh?" Julie said in the next two seconds while my brain was still tripping over itself then it got easier to think of a response when she completely ruined the image by trying to tuck her now too short hair behind her ears in a nervous girly habit and then used her fingers to lift and stare down her own shirt. "Otherwise this would never work."

"Well then I guess we should get the Hell out of here before you hit puberty," We'd taken way to long already. "I just need to change," I told her and took the less full bag into the bathroom to do just that. While I was in the restroom slipping on my sundress and sandals I heard the TV click on in the main room and Julie say "Son of a Bitch!"

_Uh oh._ My stomach twisted into a tight knot.

I opened the door to the bathroom and Julie clicked off the television in the same instant. "Do I wanna know?" I asked.

"Nope," Julie said and I got the feeling I really didn't and we quickly scooped up as much of Julie's hair as we could stuffing it into the thin clear plastic garbage bag in the room trash, then we shoved it along with Julie's 'girl' clothes and my 'kidnaper outfit' and the clippers into the Walmart bag. We grabbed the rolling suitcases and left the hotel headed to the bus stop. When we got off the next bus Julie discarded the Walmart bag into a trash can on the street. We left the rest of her purse on a street corner tucked between two buildings and climbed onto another bus.

When we passed a traffic and weather alert sign going down the interstate the flashing message clearly read: _'__Amber Alert!__Eleven year old girl, possible white SUV._'

Which was _wrong_, and that gave me hope—it meant they had _no idea_ what vehicle we'd been in at all, and Julie was pulling off the whole disinterested teenage boy look flawlessly. Looking at her even closely it was difficult to see any trace of the beautiful girl I'd grabbed off the sidewalk just hours before. Spread-eagled in the seat next to me with one leg thrown over the arm-rest hanging out in the aisle, and slumped to the side playing with her flip phone—pretending to text Julie was the perfect display of the classic 'I could give a shit' attitude I'd been so familiar with growing up in the burg surrounded by Italians bad boys like Joe. Guess the attitude translated across generations and state lines. She remained committed to the role and didn't even move when an older lady with closely cropped ash-blonde hair moved up the aisle trying to find a seat until I smacked her in the arm and told her in a tight voice, "Jules sit up and let the lady pass! For God's sake you're embarrassing me!"

I sucked in a breath and paled. _JesusChrist. I sounded like my Mother. _

Julie made a show of rolling her eyes and scoffing at me but didn't speak and when the lady was even with our seats she sent me a warm smile and assured me that 'he'd grow out of it and if not there was always boot camp.'

Which sounded eerily familiar.

When she continued on Julie shot me a quick wink no one else could see and smirked.

_Mission accomplished_.

It was three forty-five pm and in less than thirty minutes we'd be checking in at the port and boarding our cruise ship, if I didn't have a heart attack about turning into my mother first that is.

* * *

**TBC...**


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: ** Not mine, Drat!

**Notes: ** This chapter is definitely **R****ated M **for descriptions of Batman in the shower, and his not so innocent thoughts on what I imagine happened in 'Hard Eight'. _Oh Boy._

_**Huge Thanks** to everyone who has read and reviewed this story, I am simply overwhelmed at the response to this story! I don't think I've ever written for a nicer or more active fandom! You guys rock! I hope this little ditty continues to please! _

_I fixed some typos, sorry no beta! eep._

* * *

**Chapter Nine**

**_Ranger's POV_**

_March 30, 2014 - Day 138_

* * *

To his credit—despite the earlier snark Tank was silent and left Ranger to his 'Zone' the entire drive to Haywood. It was after they pulled into the deck Lester and Hal and Vince in the vehicle behind them that Tank finally spoke again.

"Bossman, you better pull yourself together. Or I'll be relieving your ass of duty until this mess is solved, don't care if I have to have Bobby take you down with enough tranquilizers to neutralize an elephant." He had nothing to say in return that wouldn't further Tank's resolve to shoot him with a dart gun so instead he climbed out of the Cayenne barely refraining from slamming the door on his exit and headed straight for the stair well.

He took the stairs to five…and then kept going, all the way to seven. When reached the top without pause he turned on his heel on the top landing and pounded his way all the way back to the garage before turning around again and working his way back up. The only sound in the echoing cavern the constant boot falls striking down on concrete and steel rimmed steps with each stride—it seemed everyone in the building was aware of his position and had elected to take the elevator to avoid an accidental encounter in his current mood. He certainly didn't hire idiots.

By the fifth circuit his ass was burning, his calves and the back of his thighs were on fire and his shirt was clinging to him, bunching and wrinkled under his Kevlar vest in a very uncomfortable way. The almost thirty extra pounds of equipment only adding to the strain of air heaving through his lungs and making his heart pound in his chest until even he started to feel a little undone.

Ranger stopped somewhere between five and six forearms crossed and braced against the stairwell's concrete wall fighting to expand his lungs fully and draw in each ragged breath past the stabbing hitch in his side. Sprinting seven flights of stairs repeatedly would do that to you.

* * *

"He quit yet?"

"Nope he's going back up again," Binkie announced from his position in front of the monitors.

"Shit, that's what ten times? Eleven?"

"Twelve," Woody clarified checking the paper tally in his hands.

"What the Hell is he doing?" Hal wondered aloud also staring at the monitors with several of the men now gathered in the mostly dark room lit by a wall of screens displaying everything from hallways and stairwells inside Rangemen to client's private and business properties.

"He's working through it," Tank's voice boomed from the doorway making most of the men jump and Lester grin beside him witnessing their startled reactions—all of them far too busy watching his cousin punish himself in the stairwell for the days transgressions.

"Beats the Hell out of beating the Hell out of one of us." Cal said. They watched Ranger pound his way up the stairs once more before stopping a flight and a half from the top to catch his breath against the wall.

"I still don't get it," Hal announced when Ranger started up again.

"Simple, Bossman's suffering from an acute attack of serious emotions—and he only knows so many ways to deal with that." Tank growled and stomped away to his office.

Hal opened his mouth and Lester smacked the seated man before him in the back of the head before he could speak jolting the other man's head forward, a vague look of annoyance overwriting the confusion previously on Hal's face.

"He's _in love_, dumbass," Lester explained. "He's not feeling in control of the situation, and it's driving him nuts. Now everybody better get their asses back to work finding her before Ranger decides he'd rather crack skulls together for recreation."

* * *

A full hour later Ranger climbed the stairs for the last time to his apartment on wobbly legs threatening to let him go to the floor at any moment. He knew he was going to be sore as fuck in the morning, but couldn't bring himself to care. It was no less then he deserved. He grit his teeth trying to ignore the burning exertion squeezing his lungs with every drawn inhale, and the slight sting in his eyes from the salt of sweat dripping from his brow. Even the tail fringe of his pony tail was wet enough that strands clung to the back and sides of his neck in a way he would normally ignore but now found almost irrationally annoying. He was still on edge, and he knew why.

_He'd fucked up. __Big time._

He retrieved his key fob from his pants pocket, and wondered if the amount of sweat on the electronic device might adversely affect its use. He used the key to enter his apartment and tossed what might be a useless device into the silver dish on the sideboard near the door planning to deal with swapping it out later, lest he be locked out of his own damn building and wouldn't that just be the icing on this clusterfuck cake.

He had his vest off and all but flung over the top of the breakfast bar in a matter of seconds, suddenly immensely irritated with the way his clothing clung to his every movement. He had the shirt ripped off with one hand over his shoulder and flung away to the floor—not even aiming for the hamper in his irritation despite his normally clean habits…his boots, pants and socks quickly followed leaving a war path to his bathroom. Hell, the last time he'd dropped his clothes where he'd been standing he'd been so severely distracted he'd completely forgotten they existed the moment they were off—His Babe had a tendency to do that to him. She made the whole world fade away.

Yanking the leather tie from his hair more aggressively than necessary and feeling the strands immediately plaster themselves to his sweat slicked skin Ranger turned to the shower and started the pipes with a vicious twist of his wrist. He stepped under the water before it was really hot, letting the lukewarm wash cool his overheated skin sending a shudder of contrasting sensations down his spine as the shower started to rinse the salt from his exertions down the drain. He tipped his head back and just leaned into the wall before him, his hands braced by his shoulders still breathing heavy, shoulders rising and falling with each sucked in breath and letting the water slide over his skin, trying to clear his mind the way he could so easily clear his face of expression—and finding the ability still infuriatingly lacking.

He'd hoped the exhaustion of exercise would calm his frayed nerves—take the edge off the rage and uncertainty swirling just under his surface in a volatile and dangerous mix. It seemed he'd missed his mark.

Grabbing the bottle of gel from the shower shelf he set to quickly cleaning himself with military precision, his mind already drifting to the searches no doubt being run downstairs by his men—with any luck they'd find something useful for once in long string of dead ends and complete shit storm that was this entire operation. He needed to know as much as possible in the next few hours because regardless his ass was going to be on a plane to check out those PO boxes in person; even if he was flying blind—he'd just prefer to know what he was walking into.

Closing his eyes and leaning his shoulder against the shower wall he tried to draw a few deep breaths, and swore with the action that he could smell her faint fragrance wafting to him on the steam. The illusive scent made his gut clench and his cock twitch while he cursed himself silently for his weakness. It was just his imagination, he firmly told himself—there was no way after four months he could still smell the faint trace of his Babe's citrus shampoo, even if she had used his shower the night before her escape, the idea was preposterous.

He knew his Babe had spent the night before her disappearance in his bed. He'd seen the video of that night, her short mental wrestling session with herself in the parking lot before she'd given in and gotten out of the car. He was familiar with that mental exercise having done it himself on more occasions then he was willing to admit when it came to his Babe. She'd spent a lot of time in his apartment, this wasn't a new thing—his Babe was always welcome to borrow his space in times of need, she was welcome to eat his food, use his shower, and slip between his sheets—especially that last one, all the more so if he was going to be in them at the same time. The thought did nothing to lessen the situation quickly growing more pressing between his legs.

He'd taken to timing her visits to his apartment when she worked for him the first time and he'd offered her the use of his apartment and his shower so she could avoid the locker room and the male occupied shower option inside. He didn't hire woman, he'd never needed to—before his Babe it had never even been a thought. And admittedly had it been anyone else he would have worked out another solution—one of the apartments on four was almost always empty and available for a female coworker to utilize. But not for his Babe. He _wanted _her in his space, he wanted her in his shower, and he always, _always_ wanted her in his bed.

Ranger bit back a groan. How many times had he clocked her post work-out visits to his apartment? Pulled up the video feed to the seventh floor hallway and noted the clock as she left the elevator sweaty from the gym and went into his home. He'd sit at his desk, his dick growing painfully hard as the minutes ticked on knowing without a doubt that she was in there with his shower gel, and her bath puff, and her fingers…and she was doing a Hell of a lot more than just getting clean. The mental images his brain supplied for him in those moments waiting for her to exit his apartment once again were enough to kill a lesser man.

He remembered vividly the day he'd comeback from a bust, sweaty and still decked out in his full SWAT gear. He'd needed to shower and change to something business appropriate to meet with a potential new client in less than an hour, and more than half-way across town. He was in a hurry. For that reason he'd failed to check the security footage first; failed to check on five to see if she was at her desk, or if she had made her way to the gym already and might be in his apartment when he arrived.

It was nearly his undoing.

When he'd met her shirtless stripped down to his cargoes just outside the bathroom door where she'd emerged tailed by a curtain of steam all pink skinned and flushed cheeks he'd taken one look at her expression and he'd known _exactly_ what she'd been doing only moments before. The images his brain threw at him to go with that thought sent his blood boiling to the point of madness and made his dick rock hard straining against the confines of his zipper painfully in less than a second.

She'd stared at him frozen in the doorway, just the pink tip of that distracting tongue had flicked out to wet her bottom lip in a nervous habit he doubted she was even aware of—she was certainly oblivious to the way it affected him every time she did it, or he was certain she'd be more careful about when she used it. How many times he'd lost his control and devoured her lips in a hungry kiss after just such a gesture, unable to control himself—desperate to follow the trail that teasing tongue had just taken over her own perfect rose-petal pink lips.

Her fingers had hitched her towel more tightly closed, her cheeks had flushed an even deeper pink under his intense gaze while she struggled to firmly adjust the simple twisted edge precariously wedge between the towels seam and the soft swelling edge of one perfect breast concealing the rest of those perfect curves from his hungry eyes. Those slightly trembling fingers captured his complete attention with the action.

He'd wanted so badly to close the distance between them, snatch her wrist and suck the soft tips of her fingers into his mouth, trace the smooth pads of her fingertips with his tongue. He'd wanted to see if any scent or taste of her lingered on those delicate digits while imagining her thrusting them inside her own flesh, surrounded by his scent—gasping out his name sent him spiraling further out of control. He knew she'd let him if he tried, the way her breath caught in her chest and her gaze lingered over his bare chest.

And God he'd wanted. Needed to the point it hurt. She so often left him in such a state it had almost become his new norm. How many times had he thought of ambushing her in just that way as she was leaving his bathroom? The driving need on those days that he knew she was taking entirely too long for just a simple shower was a million times worse…knowing if he left his desk and slipped upstairs she'd be ready for him, already naked, hot and deliciously wet and perfect, God so perfect.

That day he'd bit back a groan, breathing too hard to be considered healthy and growled at her to put on some clothes before he missed his meetings-for the rest of the week and she'd squeaked in panic and flushed and fled to the closet while he'd all but thrown himself into a very, _very_ cold shower.

He'd made his meeting with four minutes to spare.

Ranger let his eyes shut under the spray of water and imagined the taste of her on his lips, the feel of her skin always impossibly soft like silk under his roughly calloused hands. He'd planned it all out in his mind so many times; pictured it perfectly. Taking her fingers into his mouth, teasing their edges with his tongue and he gentlest of nips from his teeth, he'd tracing the pad of her thumb in little circles with his tongue to match the ones she would have used the very same digit to tease against her own clit. He'd nibble on the pulse point of her wrist, taste the soft fleshy pad of her palm just below her thumb and help her wrap her hand around his firmly aching cock, show her what she did to him—how hard she made him, how desperate he was to touch her, taste her, be inside her.

His hand wrapped around his cock without forethought, lost in the images in his mind now his touch became hers from behind his closed lids. The heat of his skin from the scorching shower and the slippery coating of slick soap under his palm a poor imitation of how it felt to slid inside her that night. God his knees nearly gave way at the memory. He tightened his grip as he worked himself, his breath picking up once more. She had felt so much better than this—better than anything or anyone he'd ever been inside. His Babe was everything he'd anticipated and so much more—he'd known she would be tight and wet after his careful attentions that night. What he hadn't expected when he'd taken her in those first few minutes unable to restrain himself now that the permission was his was how with scarcely a touch she'd been _so_ wet and aching for him she'd trembled. Everything about her was mind-staggeringly responsive, every touch, every kiss, every delicate brush of lips and fingertips and tongue sent her quivering. The sound she'd made when he buried himself inside her sheath would haunt him 'til his dying day. It was frozen in his memory in perfect exquisite detail; nothing could have made it more breath-haltingly perfect.

The emotion that fluttered across her face, echoed through his chest: contracting around his heart and clenching his gut in perfect time with his first thrust into her heat. The sensation rocked them both down to the bone, the world tilted on its axis outside her bedroom window and threatened to crash down around them with the magnitude of what they both were feeling.

It was like burying himself in another person's soul.

And she'd felt it too, he knew it with the same certainty that he knew the sun would rise in the East, and that her breath would always catch and her heart would flutter when he called her Babe.

Her eyes slipped shut as her body closed impossibly tight around him, and a half gasping whimper escaped past those perfectly parted lips, the way she'd clamped down on him so tight, so perfect; like heaven. _He was lost_.

So many fantasies from that one night, it had given him the sound-track that now tortured him nightly in his dreams. He'd only guessed at them before that night—good guesses mind you, his Babe was after all pure sin and deliciously erotic when eating cake or anything else as equally sweet, shit watching and hearing her moan in pleasure while licking frosting from an innocent utensil (heedless of the company they were in,) had nearly had him coming in his pants on more than one occasion.

But all the desert sounds in her arsenal paled in comparison to his holy grail. That _single gasping whimper_ as they joined. She'd done it again the second time he'd buried himself inside her that night—even after teasing her, torturing her to every increasing heights with his fingers, and lips and teeth and tongue—he'd coaxed pleasure after pleasure from her moaning, trembling prefect body.

He'd thought for certain burying himself inside her the second time couldn't compare to the first—he'd been wrong. And once more that sound tumbling from her lips nearly sent him over the abyss. It had been just as perfect the second time as the first—maybe even more so with the desperate way she'd rolled her hips up to greet his thrust now, all hesitation and shyness gone this time—her hands clawing at his back until he'd had to press her palms to his, fingers laced tightly with hers, the intimacy of such action not lost on him-or on her judging by the way her eyes grew bright even in the dim lighting.

He'd pin her to the bed beneath him, held her to him never wanting to let go, every strong deep thrust he made against her inviting heat wound the spiraling symphony of pleasure tighter in his gut. Her answering thrusts and gasping moans driving him higher, tipping him towards the edge ready to fall.

His movements quickened against his own flesh, his grip tightening, legs shaking. And like every other night it was the memory of _that sound_ that sent him spiraling. Ranger ground out her name between a hissed exhale and an intense rush that centered in his belly and pulsed outward following his spine and then just as quickly as it started it was over leaving him shaking and spent and honestly no more relaxed then he'd been after the stairwell.

_Fuck._

Ranger let his head fall back against the tile wall, thumping his skull firmly in a tempered rhythm against the solid surface wondering how he failed to notice just how in over his head he'd actually been. When did his perfect control become such a fucking mess?

Re-washing was a mindless procedure while he gathered his thoughts, attempted to cobble together the words he needed to say. By the time he left his apartment once more dressed in simple Rangeman black, booted up and gun on his hip he had some idea of what to say.

He just didn't know if it would be enough.

* * *

**Stephanie POV**

_November 13, 2013 - Day One_

* * *

We exited the taxi in front of the port check in, I paid the driver in cash and we rolled our suitcases towards the ticket check in. I'd made reservations over the phone—the burner phone not one connected to me or Julie in any way, and now the only way to pay this late before departure was to make the payment completely in cash.

Thanks to the start of my criminal mastermind career at the expense of Rangemen, that wasn't a problem.

The woman in the small office was very polite and helpful and I didn't see any cameras during our exchange—any obvious ones at least. Julie was still playing the part of bored teenage son standing off to the side poking at a few leaflets on expeditions offered on the various islands and on board the ship. She was also keeping the woman from getting a direct view of her face. I just hoped this port worker with all the faces she saw daily wouldn't remember a single mother paying cash for two tickets on a 5 day cruise when she saw the news later.

I wondered how long it would take them to circulate my picture to the local news outlets—which was another great thing about cruise ships, who watched the news while on vacation? Nobody I know! The whole concept was un-American. It ranked right up there on the scale of wrong-ness with baking a cake and not licking the batter off the beaters or failing to scrape the sides of the bowl clean with your fingers…or buying a dozen Boston crème doughnuts and not finishing the last one—no matter how sick you started to feel. It was indecent—it just wasn't done.

At least that was my take on it.

I sent up a silent prayer that everyone else on this boat felt the same way—about the news at least, but seeing as there was a midnight buffet with full desert bar every night they were probably on board with the cake and doughnut thing as well. _My kinda crowd._

As we made our way up the gang plank to the deck of the ship for security check in, screenings and the one thing I hadn't counted on—the on board photos. I felt my heart start to pound the closer we got and Julie noting my distress, or maybe suffering from a bit of her own snatched my hand by my side and gave it a quick split second squeeze and shot me a wink before dropping it and turning to lean on the rail of the walkway staring down at the gap of water between the side of the ship and the solid dock, her expression perfectly back to dis-interested teen as if the mask had never slipped.

Maybe the ability to be cool as a cucumber in these high stress situations was a genetic thing I pondered. _Batman_ _DNA._ While I pondered that the line grew shorter and before I knew it they'd snapped Julie's photo (looking bored) and mine (probably looking about as hot mess as a usual DMV photo thanks to the Miami afternoon humidity now in full swing.) Then we were handed a map of the ship with a welcome packet telling us all about events and meals and island ports…considering I've never been on a cruise in my life the whole thing was a bit overwhelming.

Lucky for me Julie _had_ been on a cruise before—several in fact. Living in Miami, one of the major ports of call I guess I shouldn't be surprised. Because of this Julie quickly became leader in navigate the hallways, walk-ways, elevators, corridors, and windy turning yet somehow grand-sweeping stair cases that made up the interior of the ship. As Julie led the way I kept my eyes open for possible dangers—televisions tuned into local Miami news stations, or media stands that might at a future port of call include newspapers for sale which could give us away. I found surprisingly little to link the inside of the ship to the outside world. It seemed the cruise line also shared the opinion that if you were on a ship: you were on vacation! And nothing about the real world—or it's news, was relaxing!

Course that didn't mean some of the staff might not be alerted, but they were so busy running around like scurrying ants in matching pressed uniforms I doubted they registered our faces, let alone remembered them a moment later.

We made it to our room under Julie's careful navigation and I have to admit I was completely lost. I don't think I could have found my way back to the surface if my life depended on it. I instantly thought of Titanic and shuddered trying to remember how to breathe while Julie laughed at me and reminded me that we were in the tropics. Guess I said some of that out loud.

We dropped off our suitcases and then Julie grabbed the map and pocketed a room key while I slipped on in my tiny clutch and we went off to explore the ship that would be our get-away driver at a cool twenty miles an hour over the open ocean straight to our next destination and the PO boxes I'd arranged under my fake ID. Then we'd see what the situation looked like, maybe we'd stay for a while—or maybe it would be better to call up the pawn shop and have those passports sent ASAP and hit the airways for parts unknown.

Julie joined me staring out over the rail of the ship in a sea of other vacationers—some already celebrating the beginning of their vacations with fruity and colorful drinks in hand. She looped on elbow through mine forearms braced against the rail and leaned her head against my shoulder silently for a time. When Miami was little more than a line on the horizon and the open ocean was upon us Julie smiled. It was the first honest to God smile I'd seen on her face and it was breathtaking in the same way a Ranger smile was.

"We made it Mom," Julie whispered still grinning at me, and it took my frazzled nerves and tired brain wore out from our crazy day of high stress a few seconds to realize what she'd called me. And then I had trouble breathing around the warm fuzzy pressure expanding inside my chest and the lump in my throat. My eyes watered and I hugged her tight and pressed a kiss to her ridiculous boy hair overcome with an immense wash of relief.

As we left the deck to enjoy our first dinner on board still linked arm-in-arm I realized that for the first time the word didn't fill me with an overwhelming sense of doom like it always had when Joe had asked me when I was going to settle down and be the mother of his kids. With everything I'd walked away from, everything I'd just given up somehow I didn't feel like I'd lost myself, I felt like I'd found something I didn't even know I possessed. And it made me feel proud of myself for maybe the first time ever.

Hearing Julie call me Mom gave me a responsibility I'd truthfully already taken on, a purpose when I felt like I was drifting and didn't know where to turn; it gave me strength. The drive to see this through—no matter what.

I looked at Julie, and thought of Ranger. I would do _anything_ for the two people I'd loved more than I ever thought possible from the moment we'd met.

_Where ever he was out there in this great big world, I hoped he knew; _

_I understood now._

_No price_, _Ranger_.

_No price_.

* * *

**TBC...**


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: ** Not mine, damn shame, I'd love to get my hands on the wizard!

**Notes: ** Holy Rusted Metal Batman! 200+ Reviews? You guys are **A-ma-zing!**

**Thanks to: **Snaires, Guest, Barb4spu, bgrbrmpy, shellbell78, spiffytgm, Stephannie1014, BookAddictinFla, Guest, Quilter Girl, Fanfictionstalker, Liz1969, sbabe, Hazy101, Debk, Elkniw73, MnGrammaX3, musereflective, IrishHoney, Eileenapr, BearctasRock, Rightytighty, Lilygreen, SliverofMelody, Janarden, Lulubelle09, the newest daughter, KLpuppies21, Selene Aduial, Guest, jackattack1, Angela Mueller, sapphireangel09, anna1991, armyamy, trhodes9, mjsmama, JeanieJ, Cara245, erdi99, 56 olds, jbspencer06, babesrus2, reddnrad, Angie, bgrbrmpy, Meyzen, CherryWolf713, OwlGold4181, Guest (sorry you couldn't get to chapter 5!) Guest 2, Snazzieshazzie, Mmmmm Good, and anyone else I missed! Thank you, thank you, Thank You!

Edited: Golden Cookie goes out to Saphireangel09 for catching a Major mistake! When I was copy and pasting the story to ffnet I accidently sent one chapter twice! Good catch! Oops!

Again this was a Ranger-sensitive chapter, and I hope I did our fave man in black justice!

* * *

**Chapter Ten**

_Ranger's POV_

_March 30, 2014 - Day 138_

* * *

Hector was still in the Rangeman infirmary on the third floor when he made his way down stairs—using the elevator this time not entirely certain that one more flight of stairs wouldn't send him crashing onto his ass. He didn't think his ego could handle anymore humiliation today.

Ranger almost thought the other man was asleep when he entered the long room and immediately noted the other man partially partitioned off from the main area in a glass walled room with a wide doorway and a hospital Emergency Room style bed complete with monitors and IV poles—which he noted gratefully were not in use around the man's bed.

Bobby climbed to his feet from his position near the desk where he was typing away—probably adding his official report of Hector's injuries to the man's medical file. He didn't look happy when he approached and Ranger tried to keep his expression neutral.

"Do I need to remind you he's already injured?" Bobby asked when he was within reasonable talking distance, his expression not exactly hostile—Bobby was fiercely protective of his patients—once his men were out of the medics care they were welcome to bash their heads into things, kick down walls, roll cars and leap out of airplanes—but only after Bobby deemed them fit to return to duty. Until that moment Bobby was a complete bear of a man and snarled and gnashed his teeth often and loudly about not following doctor's orders. It made him a damn good medic, and probably kept himself and some of his more pig-headed men, like Santos, from re-injuring themselves idiotically before they were ready to return to duty.

"I need to speak with him," Ranger returned and Bobby's lips pursed into a tight line.

"If that talk starts to involve fists I swear I'll chuck your ass out of this room—through the window." Bobby snarled and went back to his desk.

Ranger felt his lips twitch towards a grin. Bobby was welcome to try—after exhausting himself on the stairs he might just have a shot.

Ranger moved towards Hector's glass room to find the other man watching him through one partially swelled shut eye. "Hector,"

Hector's busted lip quirked towards a grin. "El jefe," (boss)

Ranger paused beside the bed, lips twisted into a scowl a bad taste in the back of his mouth, a tight twist of knots in his stomach he recognized as guilt and regret—both normally foreign emotions he operated without.

"Es perdonado," Hector breathed sounding painful. (It is forgiven,)

"It shouldn't be," Ranger snarled to himself mostly his hands clenched tightly at his sides.

"Todos iguales," (all the same,) Hector stated ignoring him as few men did, especially in his current mood. "I too am no stranger to mistakes made for love," Hector held his gaze despite the swelling eye and Ranger's gaze was immediately drawn to the two tear drops tattooed beneath the other man's eye. He knew the story behind those tears, few men still living knew the truth behind them.

"No repetir mis errores, mi amigo. Cuando los encontramos de nuevo - nunca la dejó ir." Hector's words had his eyes slipping shut. (Don't repeat my mistakes, my friend. When we find them again-never let her go.)

"usted es sabio más allá de sus años," Ranger sighed. (You are wise beyond your years,)

"Not really," Hector replied with humor, "sólo eres estúpido,"

Ranger let out a bark of laughter. Few men could call him stupid and get away with—Hector had earned that right. "I am an idiot." He agreed with a growl.

"Un hombre sabio es simplemente un idiota que aprendió su lección y cambió sus caminos," Hector replied in kind. (A wise man is simply an idiot who learned his lesson and changed his ways.)

"Lo siento, por lo de antes." Ranger sighed slipping down defeated into the empty chair beside Hector's head. (I'm sorry, for earlier.)

Hector's lips twisted towards a sardonic smile, and he eyed the ceiling overhead. "No es la primera vez que me he llevado una paliza," . (It is not the first time I've taken a beating.) And they both knew it was true—part of Hector's gang initiation as a young boy had been to take whatever beating the other gang members handed to him—and he couldn't tell them to stop—if he did they would kill him or worse—they would stop and walk away and he would have failed and neither street gang would take him.

They'd beaten him within an inch of his life, it was a rite of passage—proof that he was man enough to protect the gang, to take a beating at the hands of a rival gang and not break giving away their secrets—and it was to teach him the cruelty first hand he'd need to survive in such a world. It broke lesser men; it made Hector stronger, more acutely aware of how his actions directly and indirectly affected those around him. It was not the lesson he was supposed to take away from that day. But it was ingrained in him none-the-less. It was why he was here at Rangemen now.

He was a good man, and in his rage Ranger had all but forgotten that.

"Besides, you hit like an angry girl," Hector wheezed with a split lip grin.

"Mierda, y su madre lleva botas del ejército." Ranger snarled back lips twisted into a grin. (Shit, and your mother wears army boots.)

"Si, very nice boots," Hector wheezed still grinning despite Ranger implying his mother was a whore. "I go find the trackers ahora," Hector announced pulling himself up. The movement painfully slow, one arm pressed tightly around his ribcage no doubt supporting several bruised ribs in his grip. (now)

"No, Silvo can do it."

"No, they are my trackers. I do it. She is my angelito too." (little angel)

Ranger pursed his lips, he wouldn't stop the man—not really, he was the best at what he did. And he needed the best to have even a prayer to untangle his Babe's complicated mess.

Hector sighed, his expression darkening once more. "Yo no te dejaré de nuevo," (I will not fail you again,)

"You didn't. I fucked up."

"You are a good man," Hector said. "But a good man is still just a man. Creo que todas esas veces que te llama Batman han subido a la cabeza" (I think all those times she called you Batman went to your head.)

"Si," Ranger shook his head slowly pulling himself up from the chair to follow Hector's careful shuffle.

"Y cuando estoy mejor, te veo en el piso del gimnasio. Te entrego el culo a ti, _Batman_. Reembolsos una perra." Hector told him heading out the door despite Bobby's annoyed expression from the desk. (And when I am better, I see you on the gym floor. I'll hand your ass to you Batman. Paybacks a bitch.)

Ranger snorted.

"Forget Hector's switchblade—he doesn't take it easy and Ima hand your ass to you." Bobby snarled as Ranger moved to follow the smaller man's slight limp out into the hall.

"Get in line." Ranger growled.

* * *

**Stephanie's POV**

_November 16, 2013 - Day 4_

* * *

Being on the cruise ship with Julie was like being in our own little floating world. It was easy to just go with the flow each day between Julie's constant ideas for activities and the amazing food and simply forget what was waiting for us when this was all over. We spent every day from breakfast to the time we both fell exhausted into bed back in our tiny shoe-box of a room of our floating hotel doing anything and everything available to us on board.

The first scheduled stop on day two of our trip had been in the keys and by mutual consent neither of us had set foot off the ship despite the lure of perfect white sand beaches. We were still a little too close to Miami for comfort. But by Day 3 we were far from the Florida coast and sailing our way through smooth white capped waves on the open ocean to our next destination—and our departing stop.

Julie had to be "John" the entire time we were on board the ship but other than baggy boy clothes and trying to temper some of her enthusiasm for certain activities to grins instead of outright squeals her behavior didn't change a whole lot. It was vacation after all—and Julie was naturally drawn to activities that were right up a young boy's alley with her 'Ranger-Daredevil-DNA' as we quickly coined it laughing.

We 'bungee jumped' on giant trampolines on the top deck (Julie was way better at flipping mid-air then me, I kept getting dizzy), we zip-lined from one ship tower to the bow of the boat several times, rock climbed the wall over the pool until our arms and legs were shaking, played mini-golf and watched endless movies in the ship's theater including Titanic (which Julie thought was hilarious to tease me through and quote after) and Ghostbusters which I quoted the whole way through.

We even spent sometime in the saltwater pool on deck later at night when it was less crowded and during our day at port in the keys when the rest of the ship had been practically empty—Julie dressed appropriately in board shorts and a dark 'surf rag' top that was both boy and girl appropriate and still let her swim and take the swirling almost two story slide down to the pool's deep end so many times I lost count. And we didn't miss a single desert bar, and failed to find a single sweet we didn't like. It was a good thing we were only going to be on board for four days because even with all the running we were doing I was going to need bigger jeans!

And there were photos, photos everywhere—at first we avoided them before realizing that made us stick out from everyone else, and then walking through the 'gallery' coming back from dinner on our second day we'd grown curious and decided to look at some of the snap shots we'd posed for in various places and photo ops around the boat. I'd bought 8x10's of every single one. And then we started seeking them out, and each new photo became more hilarious and grin-inducing then the one before. By the third night I had photos of Julie and I climbing the rock wall and Julie pretending to hang off the fake wall by her fingertips—mission impossible style, a photo of us accosting a crew member dressed like a turtle, and another one where Julie was hugging a giant dolphin grinning like a fool and I was laughing beside them too hard to even look at the camera. There were photos of us faking tiger woods shots in mini-golf, and Julie and I zip lining over the deck.

On our third day Julie found a small digital camera in one of the on board shops and we bought two of them—they were the perfect size to fit in the back pocket of our jeans and everything became a photo opportunity—dessert, lounging by the pool, Julie on the slide, Julie climbing on the front bow of the ship to scream that she was the 'king of the world'—right before the deck attendant asked us to kindly climb down. I figured if my life of crime ended badly and I had to spend the rest of my life behind bars at least I'd have enough photos I could wallpaper my cell, it was also one of the few times over the last few years I could remember being honestly happy—even with everything else going on. Julie made laughter as easy as breathing.

The days went entirely too fast, and before we knew it we woke to the complete absence of the slight rocking motion of the ship we'd grown accustom to. We immerged onto the deck to find we were parked in port outside San Juan, Puerto Rico and it was time to face reality once more. A very scary reality.

I'd managed to forget what was waiting for us while we were on the ship, (denial is a wonderful thing!) but now with backpacks slung over our shoulders (since we could hardly roll suitcases off the ship without making it too obvious we had no intentions of getting back on board,) we departed into the port of Old San Juan with its brightly colored two story buildings and shiny blue tinted cobblestoned streets. It was like stepping into a whole new world and we were both instantly in love.

We caught a taxi to the post office using the address in the tiny notebook in the front pocket of my bag and accessed my PO Box inside retrieving the cash and the first few parts to my stolen nine mm and 22, and then we caught a second taxi to the edge of Old San Juan for lunch at a local place based on a recommendation of one of the resident postal employees. It turned out to be an excellent choice—not just for the food but for the old pock-marked bulletin board in the back hallway listing rental apartments in the city and costal vacation houses on the beach. Before we left 'John' ducked into the restroom and came back out 'Julie' with a girl's tighter fitting t-shirt over her board shorts and two cute hair clips in her short locks pinning the bangs in her almost 'pixie' cut back from her face. She added pink lip gloss when she made it back to our café table and the transformation was complete.

We wrote down numbers and address and decided to walk the short distance to help us digest our massive lunch. The city streets in the old section of town were historically narrow and lively and loud in some places we had to dive into the recessed shop doorways to escape being side-swiped by cars that drove up onto the sidewalks to pass each-other on the narrow straight ways. The whole experience reminded me of side-swiping Joe with my Dad's Buick all those years ago and when I shared the story (an edited version mind you,) with Julie she laughed for three blocks and started shouting 'look out Joe!' every time a new vehicle made us dive with a symphony of laughter to the side to avoid being rammed.

After three options we found a building we thought would work, and happily instant access since upon calling the inquiry number I'd jotted down it turned out the cafe owner on the bottom floor was actually the owner to the two apartments above. She lived on the second floor, and the available apartment was on the third.

The building was pale blue with curved doorways and window dressings all in white trim and sandwiched tightly between its pink and terra cotta orange neighbors. There was a balcony on both the second and third floors overlooking the narrow street where the sidewalk was lined with short knee high black iron poles to stop cars from jumping the sidewalk and endangering pedestrians on the busy street. The apartment had two bedrooms, a shared bathroom connected to the short hall, a small kitchen, dark wood flooring filled the living space and the glass doors that opened to the amazing view on the porch were destined to be constantly propped open to let in the sights and sounds of the city outside. It was partially furnished, and the main bedrooms small closet had a short knee high safe bolted to the floor to stash our cash and my illegal weapons once I was finished re-constructing them. I agreed to the price on a weekly basis and we took possession of the keys immediately.

We also accepted short term work after a quick friendly discussion with the land lady to waitress to the tourists in the café below on weekends and cruise-port days, the busiest business days for the land lady to manage on her own since her son and his fiancé had moved outside the city to attend school in Cayey. When our land lady who insisted we call her Ella (which I found surreal but went right over Julie's head until I explained it later) asked why Julie wasn't in school and how long we'd be staying Julie saved both our butts without missing a beat.

"Year round school, we're on a month long break and my Dad's always away on business—so we decided to get away for a while. Little mother daughter vacation!"

"That sounds lovely dear," Ella smiled and I behind her back I breathed a silent sigh of relief and mouthed 'thank you' to Julie and she grinned back at me.

_God I loved that girl._

* * *

**Ranger's POV**

_March 30, 2014 - Day 138_

* * *

"I never know whether to be really impressed, or just fuckin' embarrassed." Cal announced staring at the large monitor at the head of the conference room. His words met with several murmured agreements around the table.

The display on the conference room wall showed an over view of Miami where Cal, Vince and a heavily patched up Hector had gone through systematically highlighting in various colors exactly where every false trail Stephanie and Julie had left had started and ended up between dumped GPS trackers, spliced together video reels, and eye witness accounts gathered from both the local police, FBI and the Miami and Trenton Rangeman teams who were immediately on hand in the hours and days after the disaster. Each highlight path was marked with times near as they could be determined.

They'd tracked the empty hotel room where Julie had cut her hair they assumed since the girls had cleaned up all evidence of the transformation—but the next clip of video they'd lucked out in finding from a banks external video feed across the street showed what looked like a Punk ass boy in baggy street clothing following Stephanie out of a bus downtown and both of them continuing on down a stretch of sidewalk that unfortunately had no cameras to follow them.

"Shit Ric, she looks just like you," Lester had mumbled from his right side when that portion of video had played, and he'd had to clench his fists under the table top to keep them from shaking. The gender switch was incredibly smart, and with the play-acting his daughter was doing on the screen it was completely believable. Shit they could have waltzed right in front of the police station and probably gotten away with it! He shook his head and tried to focus.

They'd followed bogus airline reservations and 'miss-placed cellphones.' It was no God Damn wonder his men had been running around like chickens with their heads cut off pulling out their hair for months—and the FBI hadn't faired any better…

If she hadn't been evading _him_ essentially by staying one step ahead of his men he'd be damn proud—Hell he was damn proud. He was also scared shitless that this was just the beginning; that she was far more adept at staying two steps ahead of them then any of them had ever realized and that the entire trail would be this convoluted and hard to follow. How long would this take? What if the trail was too cold and he was forced to sit on his hands and wait for Julie to send another video, or his Babe to finally call home. The fact that she had yet to do so ate at him more then he wanted to admit.

His Babe had the gift of intelligence and ingenuity, but it was more than that—she had something that couldn't be taught, _instinct_—a serious knack for knowing when to right instead of left, and how to slip through a dangerous situation by the skin of her teeth. How many times had he teased her about his being 'in the wind'? Now his Babe was giving him a taste of his own medicine. It was a bitter pill to swallow.

He could only imagine how fucking impossible this would be if she'd actually been training seriously and working with him all along, if that were the case the scene in front of him—one of the few breadcrumbs they'd stumbled upon in her initial flight through Miami might not have made it to him.

"What's to be embarrassed about? We've been outsmarted by a woman with no military background and less than three years' experience in tracking FTA's…and a twelve year old girl." Tank grumbled.

"Eleven," Ranger corrected and someone at the conference table snorted. Several someone's in fact.

"It's Bombshell, you never know what she's capable of until she shocks the Hell out of you." Lester grinned.

"Or just shocks you," Hal interjected still managing to blush over the incident after all this time. This made the guys snort again.

"Or blows something up." Woody interjected miming an explosion with his hands.

"Or pancakes a Porsche." Bobby chuckled.

"God love her," Cal wheezed shaking with silent laughter.

"So _where_ is she?" Lester asked what they were all thinking.

"Working on it," Hector said.

He said nothing, he wasn't sure he trusted his voice to speak—not with the picture frozen on the screen before him. He'd pulled it off the mainframe and onto the laptop sitting in front of him so the screen was mostly private and the others couldn't see exactly what he was looking at. It was one of the few video feeds from inside the buses they'd ridden—but unlike a traditional video camera this one did not take a continuous feed, only timed shots more like a moving camera.

His Babe and Julie were only in fourteen still shots captured on the bus. But they were good ones—before the hair change, before the clothing change, early in their evasive movements. The photo was frozen on the wall above them too—in black and white and a bit fuzzy on the bottom portion of the screen where a line of feedback possibly from a loose wire in the initial system obscured a bit of the picture.

But there was no mistaking them; Stephanie seated next to Julie several rows back. His daughter half in his Babe's lap, her knees pulled up almost to her chest, feet obviously on the seat curled into a tight ball like a small child needing to be re-assured. Her head rested against Stephanie's chest watching out the window as the bus moved along, both their arms wrapped tightly around each other. In one frame Stephanie was looking out the window too. But in the next, the one that truly drew him; she had her head leaned down. Her cheek rested a top Julie's dark hair, her eyes closed—a reverent and also infinitely sad expression on her face he'd rarely seen.

If the video still were in color he knew without a doubt that the hue of her normally clear blue eyes would be dark and swirling almost to the point of grey. He'd seen the color before. He had memorized it long ago, it captivated him; made him desperate to wipe it away. He'd tried and damn near succeeded the first time he'd kissed her, when she was standing in front of him so long ago in the parking lot of her building like so many nights that tested his control, but this night had been different.

There'd been tears sparkling on her cheeks like tiny diamonds in the reflected streetlight that night. She'd been telling him her life sucked after just handing him the license plate and tags to the BMW he'd loaned her. It was just after the 'Porsche Pancake' incident as the guys later coined it…he still vividly remembered the feel of her lips under his, the slight taste of salt on her skin, the catch in her breathing and the soft press of her curves to his hardness in all the right places.

_Fuck_. His hands were shaking for a whole new reason now. Ranger raised his eyes to the larger photo on the main screen once more. It was a moment of quiet weakness captured on film—two young women he loved more than he ever thought possible on the run together, leaning on each other desperately for support…

_How could he have ever thought she meant him harm?__Or Julie?_

_He should be there in that picture, _had been his first instinctual thought upon seeing it, _now it was burned into his brain—the image of his Babe, and his daughter alone, without him.__His absence in the image haunted him, made his chest ache in a way he'd previously thought possible; but there it was.__He was a weak and unbelievably stupid man._

_He just prayed he got a chance to learn from his mistakes._

"We've covered every form of public transportation in and out of Miami," Hal announced what he already knew. "All the trains, airline tickets and hotel reservations made under her false names turned up nothing."

"And we're sure there were only three names?" Tank asked before eyeing him over the conference table, not because of the question he realized seeing as the man had been with him when he made certain their information was complete. He must be slipping again Ranger reasoned and worked quickly to wipe what must be staggering emotions for his men to witness off his face.

His mask once more in place Ranger leveled his gaze at the larger man. "Positive." If his voice was a bit tight, and thick no one called him on it. And if it seemed like Tank was running this meeting and not him, no one made comment on that either. Hell, he'd seen a few misty eyes during the briefing himself. All around him his men were waking up in a way he hadn't witnessed in weeks—it was life returning to empty shells, hope. And there was also guilt.

Hector though he was having trouble sitting fully upright had refused to stay away. The smaller man kept his elbows braced on the table for support and never wavered during the discussion. The usually jovial men who often teased and cajoled the smaller man had changed their behavior drastically in regards to him as well—and it wasn't out of respect for the beating he'd taken.

He'd never lost the faith.

She hadn't gotten any other ID's, at least not from the man Hector had told him to see. He'd made certain of that before leaving the Pawn Shop on Stark. Not that the man hadn't been cooperative the moment he'd walked in the door.

Large guns in truly experienced and pissed off hands tended to have that general effect on people.

"Tell me about the search on Julie, what turned up?" Ranger asked trying to shift his own thoughts. Obviously his Babe had done the same thing before taking Julie into the wind. He needed to know what she found—what she saw that set off that incredible set of instincts she'd been born with, that she'd only honed further over the last few years whether she realized it or not. The attention around the conference table shifted and the monitor changed.

Vince cleared his throat looking a bit uncomfortable having to be the one to voice this portion of the information. "So, Ranger makes regular payments to the Martine's once a month," Ranger didn't nothing to confirm this information, he already knew this, so did his Babe. "That money is supposed to go to cover Julie's private school tuition, extracurricular activities—" Vince glanced down at the sheet in front of him, since this wasn't difficult information to recall like say a string of complex financial numbers it only furthered his impression that Vince was nervous about what his search had turned up. Ranger felt his gut tighten waiting for the information that had set his team member off. "—She's got Soccer, violin and a regular private tutor. She's also been seeing a therapist…since Scrog…" Vince cleared his throat once more. "Anything left over after those expenses is supposed to go straight to Julie's college fund and the investment portfolio set up in her name." Here Vince hesitated again.

"And?" Ranger growled.

"…and the account is empty." Vince told the table, pointedly not looking at Ranger. No one was looking at Ranger—except for Tank.

"Which account?" He felt himself ask in a rather tempered tone.

"Both the college account and portfolio—and that wasn't the case last year, I checked. Before Scrog Julie had close to one hundred grand in her portfolio between CD's, stocks and Bonds, and her college fund had just under fifty thousand in it—according to the records Ron Martine initiated a large with drawl from both accounts without his wife's signature in the last six months—and now they're empty."

"The Fuck?" Lester snarled next to him, probably more in response to their having missed this tidbit of information in their initial search, rather than the shock of finding out something fishy was going on with the Martine's in the first place.

"What else is happening in the Martine's financials?" Ranger wanted to know, specifically where the Hell did the money go?

"The accounts seem to have disappeared—the amounts were withdrawn and sent to a separate account with routing numbers overseas, then transferred again—we're having trouble tracking the second transfer." Vince informed the table.

"He owe someone?" Cal asked.

"Not sure, there was no name attached to the account—and the money was moved into a private portfolio with an investment company immediately after that—I've got Silvo working to crack into those financials now, but he says the security is some of the best he's ever seen."

"I don't want excuses." Ranger growled and Vince nodded quickly. "What else?" He snapped. Because Vince looked a little sick, so that couldn't be the worst he'd found.

"So it gets weirder, Ron was making regular cash withdrawals dating back the last eight months, these withdrawals happen almost once a week; sometimes twice a week—always cash withdrawals—and the slips are always signed by Ron."

"How big of a withdrawal are we talking about?" Tank asked.

_Cash could mean anything, a drug habit, gambling, a mistress or hookers…_

"Eight hundred dollars, every time except the last two—those were several thousand. Four grand each time, and both after Julie went missing—nothing has been withdrawn in cash since."

"That's one hell of a happy hooker," Lester drawled already sharing Ranger's thoughts.

"Or enough blow to give yourself a frontal lobotomy through the nose," Tank snarled.

"What else is happening when these withdrawals take place?" Ranger wanted to know, "Who's in his datebook at work, is he meeting the same clients? Leaving work early?"

"He did leave work early on these days, or on the very next day—almost every time a withdrawal was made." Vince confirmed.

"And?"

"And those days coincide with the days Julie had therapy with a therapist, Doctor Gregory Nikolas."

"Cash payment for therapy?"

"No, the therapy is clearly covered by Julie's insurance, there isn't even a co-pay between her mother's primary insurance and the Rangeman secondary carrier—there's no reason Ron would be paying for her therapy, not out of pocket, and no reason for it to be in cash."

"Find out if Ron was going somewhere during these sessions, if he left the office and met someone on those days—or if he was meeting someone there. I also want someone to access those medical notes—see if anything changed in Julie's prognosis when the money started being pulled out. And run a financial and criminal background check on the Doctor." Ranger decided.

Vince nodded, scribbling a note on the pages in front of him.

"There is something else, el jefe." Hector's rasping voice drew instant quiet around the table the moment he spoke Ranger looked expectantly at him waiting for him to continue. "I did not find it odd at first but now, with the other money, I think it means something. The Martine's took out life insurance on su hija three weeks after Scrog." Ranger's jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed at the name. "Week before they flee, Ron added a second policy,"

"How much policy?" Lester asked voice tight with growing anger.

"En total? Four million."

Several muttered curses sounded around the table. "That's a _Hell_ of a lot of insurance on one kid." Tank said.

"And very coincidental timing," Lester said. "And the exact same amount Ron is suing you for."

"Coincident my ass." Ranger snarled. "Pack it up," Vince, Hester and Cal nodded. They might not be on the investigation—or legally supposed to look into the case at all, but that didn't mean the files on the table wouldn't 'anonymously' find their way onto Agent Fullers desk at a convenient enough time delay for Ranger and company to check it out first.

"To Miami Boss?" Lester leered probably thinking about beach bars and string bikinis.

Ranger scowled back at his ridiculous cousin and with a curt nod dismissed the rest of his men to their regular jobs—or Stephanie related tasks.

"Get the jet prepped for an 8am flight, tell the pilot we'll send the final destination tonight, after Hector receives the GPS ping form the trackers in Stephanie's passport." The trackers had been activated the moment Hector returned to his desk, but they only sent a signal every few hours—they had small batteries, it was best that way for long term. Considering how often Ranger had had to sneak into his Babe's apartment in the past to replace her regular GPS trackers he kept in her purse he was grateful—after four months without a lowered capacity the GPS would be long dead and useless to them.

"It was still in San Juan, the last time I check one week ago." Hector said quietly from his side. "Next ping should be at 10pm."

"Puerto Rico," Lester's grin widened. "Even _better_."

Tank was already on his heels as he makes his way into the hallway, he refrains from comment until they're behind the closed door of his office—only confirming what he knows the larger man is going to say.

"I don't think you should go to Miami, or anywhere near it." Tank announced once the door clicked shut on the hallway behind them.

_Yup._ Ranger said nothing for a moment. Circling his desk to dig through a drawer for his contact book—it's been a while since he's needed anything for this portion of the world and he has to wonder if the people he's dealt with on the island are still in play. Fingers closing over the small book he tosses it onto his desk top shutting the drawer and facing Tank once more from his full height trying to keep his expression and tone neutral. "Because of the investigation and the potential problems if we run up against the FBI?" His second in command was after all in charge of making sure he didn't run off half-cocked when it came to matters involving his Babe that might backfire on his company.

In charge, of course didn't mean the other man was successful. It was turning into a full time job in itself particularly the last few days. Tank was probably going to start demanding hazard pay.

"No, because I don't think it should be any easier for you to kill Ron Martine," Tank was watching him carefully.

"Well good thing I'm not going alone, Lester will be with me." He didn't say he wasn't going—he was going. Tank knew he was going—he just wanted to grumble about it first. It was what they did.

"That's no good, you need someone going that won't cheer and offer to play lookout while you bruise your knuckles." Tank growled.

Ranger felt the edge of his mouth twitch and Tank's brow raised. "Who would you suggest then?" He couldn't imagine anyone currently employed at Rangeman that didn't want their own private five minute chat with Ron Martine behind a really thick door, preferably in a sound proof room.

They stared at each other over the contact book between them on the desk and finally Tank snarled a curse and ran a hand over his bald head. "Shit, Should I hire more lawyers?" Tank sighed finally, admitting defeat and meeting his eyes over the desk once more, the unspoken question hanging in the air between them.

"Don't be ridiculous," Ranger announced and Tank's expression darkened even as one eyebrow raised.

They both knew if it came to that—no one would ever find the body anyway.

* * *

**TBC...**


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer:** Nope, they are still not mine, nothings changed.

**Notes: **huge thanks to the readers and reviewers out there! you guys rock my socks!

One of the reviewers asked what is going on with Stephanie's family right now; and while I wont be bringing them into this, since lets face it Ranger would hardly stop in for coffee cake and coffee to ask Grandma and Mrs. Plum if the 'burg grapevine knew where his Babe was...*snort* oh that idea has me in stitches! Ranger would probably develop his very own Stephanie plum style eye twitch... LOL

They WILL probably get a one or two line mention where appropriate-that's part of the problem with becoming a fugitive, you cant exactly go home for dinner at 6pm without SWAT and the FBI showing up (not to mention a pissed off Tank!) This chapter will let you know a bit more about what happened to Joe during all this, so maybe that helps? -K

Typos fixed! 8/25 740 pm est

* * *

**Chapter Eleven**

Ranger's POV

_March 31, 2014 - Day 139_

The call had come up from five at close to ten thirty the previous night. He'd finally gotten the information he'd needed to track his Babe. Hector had double checked the tracker's GPS signal—in both passports and they still showed the same locations—San Juan, Puerto Rico—specifically old town. The pilot had been informed, flight plans arranged, Lester had done a little dance towards the elevator to pack his tightest t-shirts, Hal and Cal had bitched about not being on the core team. And Tank and made lots of un-happy faces, which was usually Ranger's job.

Ranger had hung up on them all, then stopped answering the phone and locked the door to seven and spent some serious time contemplating a bottle he hadn't touched since Scrog. Now head pounding, military duffle bag packed he was driving toward the Newark Airport where they would be taking off for Miami Florida, and then immediately bouncing to Puerto Rico.

His Babe was incredibly crafty Ranger mused, for probably the hundredth time since this all began—Puerto Rico was 'outside' the country yet one of the few places that didn't require a passport to visit. The PO boxes were available online and tracing back mail showed she'd sent several packages to the three boxes she'd purchased on different parts of the island. Ranger assumed the packages she'd dropped into the mail to her real PO boxes contained the money she'd walked off with in the early morning before her flight and if he had to guess the guns—most likely in broken down form. Separate parts wouldn't alarm most mail screenings since people ordered parts all the time. Most or mail carriers wouldn't seize mail or start a full blown investigation just because a few springs or barrels went through their system, and she'd used different initial companies for the drop off.

No mailing company had transported the parts for one complete gun. Chances were good no one but Rangeman realized the PO boxes had receive enough 'spare parts' in that first week to reassemble two complete and unlicensed weapons without the proper paperwork. When he finally got his Babe back they were going to have a serious discussion about how devious she'd been in all this—he was starting to feel like she'd been holding back on him. When pushed had come to shove while he was in the wind he imagined she'd surprised even herself at her ingenuity and strength.

Steph and Julie had apparently boarded a cruise ship in the port of Miami after their bus trail and a short taxi ride still under a false ID and sailed away with full desert bar. The thought made his lips twitch into an almost smile. _His Babe had style_, _and chocolate, that had to help her stress levels._

The photos in the cruise companies database—digital copies of photos taken on board the first three days of the trip had been forwarded to Rangeman after a formal security request—which may have sounded like they were part of the official FBI investigation and definitely mentioned they were searching for a missing child. The woman on the phone had been rightly upset and insisted there must be some mistake when she'd pulled up the photos on her own computer before forwarding them on to Rangeman—this child couldn't be kidnapped, it simply wasn't possible. When Ranger's own laptop upstairs had pinged later that night showing him the file of forwarded photos sent up from Hector on five he'd understood the confusion.

He'd rarely seen photos of his Babe or his daughter looking so happy. Every picture he flipped through they were smiling and laughing and hugging large costumed sea-life on the deck of the ship, rock-climbing, getting ready to step off of the boat in front of a decorative round white and blue life-preserver that declared they were in 'San Juan, Puerto Rico!' it was the last picture they'd had made on board. The cruise director had assured them that according to digital records Both passengers had went to port in Old San Juan, but never returned to the ship.

The trackers Hector had slipped inside the Passport jackets before dropping them off with Cred, and Stephanie's PO boxes on the island agreed.

Ranger had spent half the night flipping through the photos of them both. Julie was dressed like a boy, but there was no mistaking his daughter, or his Babe—though her hair was shorter and clearly straightened in almost every photo she was laughing and smiling and didn't look bothered in the least to find herself on the wrong side of the law.

Ranger scowled at the reflection catching his eye in the rearview mirror, it had only taken him seconds to spot the tail, he knew the car so didn't bother pulling out his phone to call it in. At least he'd had the decency not to use his lights. Even so the tail on his Porsche was possibly the very last person in the entire state of New Jersey he wanted to see.

Making his way off the turnpike and into the parking lot of one of the way-stations situated between exits so he didn't have to deal with the tolls to exit and return to the road after this shit was through Ranger parked far from the building. At this distance people would be less likely to overhear their conversation if it turned heated. And admittedly because the steep grassy hill at the edge of the lot with the drainage pond at the bottom seemed a tempting place to quickly lose a body should the need arise.

He didn't bother to get out of the car; he'd stopped out of courtesy. The Trenton police had been kicked off the investigation for Stephanie Plum same as Rangeman—and he couldn't think of a single other thing he could possibly be involved in since his return which would draw the attention of _this_ particular cop specifically. He certainly hadn't killed anyone-_yet._

Joe got out of his car dressed in jeans and a flannel shirt over another. His face was drawn and tired as he approached and he needed a shave. Ranger let the window roll down as the other man drew nearer. He didn't speak, and at first neither did Joe. They eyed each other reproachfully through the open window before Joe shook his head marginally and glanced away over the parking lot and to the fields surrounding the turnpike beyond that. But Ranger didn't believe the man was actually seeing any of it. He knew that look, he knew it well.

"I was going to walk up to this car and demand that you tell me where you had her." Joe's voice was quiet though, no heat in the words. Even their previous stare down had lacked the open hostility they'd once seemed to almost revel in portraying towards one another. Alpha dogs were usually wise enough not to tangle with one another when there's no trophy for the points. Even if Stephanie wasn't a prize to be fought over—the very idea would have sent her into full blown Rhino mode and he'd no doubt she would have drop kicked both their balls into next week…but that simple fact had never stopped the posturing.

Ego is after all Ego—even if it's pointless and stupid, he never said he didn't have his faults. Hell he was growing more aware of them every damn day.

"And now?" Ranger found he honestly wanted to know.

"Now, I _know_ you don't have her. It's written on your face." Joe gave him an odd look Ranger didn't like, it made his hands itch on the steering wheel and his knuckles tightened almost imperceptibly against the leather grain under his palms. He pursed his lips, facial features schooled into a carefully blank mask that had saved him so many times before, in re-cons and ops and top-secret missions where one screw up, one tick—one tell was the difference between life or death. He didn't like the idea that Joe could read him, even in a small way—and especially not about something as sensitive as his Babe.

"It's the eyes." Joe told him holding his stare for a long moment before looking away again, out over the field, or maybe to the sky beyond even that. "I know that look." His voice had gone tight—strained.

Ranger felt the snarl building in his chest, but pushed it down. How many times had he lost control this week? He'd lost count. He'd destroyed half his apartment just last night after too many shots of vodka reminding himself in the morning not just with the pounding headache and desert for a mouth but with the staggering destruction he barely remembered doing _why_ he didn't drink. Especially not when he had a damn fucking good reason to and his control was already slipping.

He drew a tight breath and let it go, knowing he'd regret asking but needing to know what the other man saw when so many men before had missed so much. "What look?"

"Pain," Joe answered and even the syllable seemed difficult for him to work out—like admitting it out loud was a defeat he hadn't expected. "I've seen it before, with Scrog. When Julie and Stephanie were in there, and you made the choice."

It wasn't a choice he wanted to say, because this man of any other should understand at least that. It wasn't just pain then either, he almost voiced; it was surrender. The final price he was willing to pay to save his Babe and his daughter's, no matter what the cost.

"You're still in love with her." Ranger realized eying the other man. The man who didn't have missions; and darkness filled with secrets, the man who didn't have countless deaths on his hands and horrors etched into his very soul. There were no shadows waiting in Joe's past possibly biding their time to leap out and rip everything from his tentative grasp. This man who'd had her in his bed so many nights that Ranger had to stop keeping track after a while because it made him want to down half a bottle of vodka and destroy things to remind himself he was alive, the rest of the time it made him want to drink away his precious control and then crawl to her door and beg her to forgive him every stupid thing he'd ever said about not needing her like air.

And Joe still couldn't hold onto her with all those advantages.

Because her heart wasn't his.

"Christ," Joe breathed out sounding pained at the other man's blunt wording. "Who wouldn't be?" Then he walked back to his car, climbed in and simply drove away.

Maybe Joe never won her even after all this time because his Babe was always meant to be _his_.

Ranger sat for frozen, mentally walking himself through every memory—every kiss and word and touch they'd ever shared long after the cop drove away. Long enough that Manny called from the control room to check on him—make sure he was alive.

He was parked awfully close to that ditch after all.

* * *

**Stephanie's POV**

_November 23, 2013 - Day 11_

* * *

My heart clenched the moment I opened the packet standing beside the PO Box with Julie by my side. She was leaned against the wall of metal boxes staring out the big plate glass window across from us, presumably at the mixture of tourists passing by on the cobble stone street even at 8am on a Saturday morning. Really she was playing lookout for muscled men in black and anybody that looked like an FBI suit.

"What's wrong?" Julie's voice was quiet, but had an edge to it—tension that had never been in her voice before this all started, before her initial kidnapping almost a year ago—before Scrog. Sometimes I laid at night wondering what the long term effects of this mess might be on her. I shook those thoughts away. My spidey sense was telling me even before I reaching into the packet that was clearly postmarked as originating from New Jersey that something was off.

What was wrong was her passport had a photo in it—_and_ there were four of them. "Shit," I said.

"Shit what?" Julie asked her voice growing more impatient.

"Don't curse," I said. And Julie shot me a look through the dark fringe of bangs hanging in her eyes that clearly said; _Hello, we're fugitives, potty mouths are the least of our problems!_

_Right. _"Come on, let's get out of here." Julie nodded in agreement. I closed and turned the key on our PO Box to lock it back up and we left the postal office.

"So what's going on, you have to tell me," Julie said as we started walking. "I'm the only other person here!"

_She was right._ "There are four passports, not two," I told her, "and I never gave the guy your photo because I didn't have a passport standard photo to give him—I also didn't think it was a good idea considering the alerts that were going to go out."

Julie nodded slowly, and lowered her voice again as we slipped into the crowd her expression thoughtful, assessing. "So someone gave him my photo, and sent you extra passports." Julie said.

"Yes." Julie made a hmmm noise in response and we walked on.

Someone knew. Without a doubt—and I was pretty sure I knew who it was, and I was obviously torn. I mean the fact that a fleet of black SUV's or a sea of FBI suits and local police hadn't shown up outside the café was a good sign right? It'd been almost two weeks since our escape, seven full days since we left the cruise ship and never went back—plenty of time to organize the Rangemen into a full scale island invasion. They had to know we were here if someone at Rangeman had supplied Mr. Gap-Tooth with Julie's photo—and obviously paid for, or 'negotiated' two extra passports. Though I had a very strong feeling it wasn't the kind of negotiations I'd done as a pantie buyer for EE Martin; I'd never had to introduce someone to my fists. _Yikes._

The moment we got back to the apartment I pulled up my new laptop and booted up the computer, the Café downstairs offered wi-fi, and we had the password and while it was dangerous to do this, if they already knew where my _real_ PO boxes were located there was a good chance they already knew _exactly_ where we were anyway.

"I don't want to leave," Julie said plopping down on the couch beside me and hugging a turquoise and white pillow. Her fingers picked at the tasseled fringe on the corner absentmindedly while I entered the password for my private email—the one Hector had set up for me—the one Julie had originally used to alert me when this entire mess started.

As I suspected I had several emails, about fifteen from Tank all pretty much the same message growing more and more harassed with each day:

_Little girl, __Are you in trouble? _

_Little girl, Where are you?_

_Steph, What's going on? Call us please! __We're all worried!_

Then after the fifth day shit got more Tank-afied:

_Stephanie, What the Hell is going on? Where the Fuck are you? Why do you have Julie? __Your Trackers are all over town, you're not in Washington, North Dakota or LA! __The Fuck is going on?! Shit around here is getting ugly! __Call me, Now!_

And finally:

_Stephanie, if you don't contact Rangeman in the next few hours I'm going to have no choice but to turn all our information over to the FBI. __My hands are tied. __-Tank_

There was even several from Lester, but all of his were more pleading and asking if I was in trouble; begging me to call him so he could help, a few he even offered to meet me in private anywhere, anytime to help me with whatever it was I was on to. But even the tone of those grew more depressed and anxious as the days went on. Those emails made a lump form in the back of my throat and stopped opening them before I reached the last one. I didn't want to know. Julie had remained quiet this entire time still sitting beside me, I knew she was reading over my shoulder.

"He's a good guy," Julie said quietly when I stopped opening Lester's emails, and I was suddenly reminded that Lester was actually Julie's uncle.

The most recent email was from Hector, and there was only one.

It was short and sweet and left no doubt in my mind that he'd been the one to fix my passport problem—after all he was the one I'd taken with me that day to see the damn guy. I should have known. It was stupid to think Hector had bought my ridiculous lie about the FTA and information, or to think that he was too busy playing with the radio to notice what was going on inside. He was Rangeman after all, they were astute like that. He'd probably seen me fill out the form at the counter and since he was one of Ranger's main informants on Stark knew exactly what that thing was for—Hell it wasn't like I'd taken anything inside to pawn that I could actually get money for!

_Angelito—I still believe in you. Stay safe. __I let you know the minute he is home. __-H_

"Is that him?" Julie asked still sitting beside me and I nodded. She pursed her lips and we both continued to stare at the screen for a long while before I marked all the messages as unread (like that would stop someone like Hector, or Silvo or even Tank from knowing I'd accessed them, which it probably wouldn't) and closed the laptop down.

"What do we do?" Julie said. "It doesn't sound like Hector will turn us into Tank, he's going to tell us when my Dad comes home—that's a good thing right? I mean, he'll know long before we can figure it out; we're not even in the country!"

I nodded. It was a good point, but I was also worried that Hector would cave if Tank or Lester or several of the other linebackers at Rangeman or even the FBI leaned on him—they could threaten Hector with jail time, or threaten to just shoot him or throw him out a window, (if it was Tank.)

"We probably can't stay here—at the very least we can't use those passports." I reasoned, which was a pretty big problem. I'd planned on having two really good passports to get us through the airlines and some place even farther away—though we hadn't decided on where yet, somewhere in Europe? Julie had told me Brazil, which I thought was an odd choice but was definitely far away and as far as I knew pretty safe…I think.

"So we need new passports?"

I nodded and then blew out a breath the magnitude of that one problem weigh on me. Without my contacts I had no idea where to start to get that done here. It also hadn't occurred to me just how dangerous getting the fake passports the first time around might have been for me—In New Jersey I was 'Manoso's Woman' anytime I went somewhere remotely dangerous, it had probably saved me more times then I even wanted to know. Here I had no insight, no connections, and no protection beyond what I could offer myself—and I had Julie to think of.

_Shit._

"We need another plan?" Julie said.

"We need another plan," I agreed.

"This is my favorite part," Julie said practically rubbing her hands together in front of her at the thought.

_Definitely Batman DNA._

* * *

TBC, sorry this was a short one compared to the last few ones!


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer: **Not mine, though I did make up this guy...hmmmm.

**Notes: **Huge thanks to all the followers of this story, I cherish every PM and review I get, you have no idea! Better then pineapple upside down cake and Boston crème doughnuts with sprinkles!

* * *

**Chapter Twelve**

Stephanie POV

_November 26, 2013 - Day 14_

* * *

We rolled out the back door of the clinic and hit the pavement walking briskly to the car—there was no reason to run, but there was less reason to hang around waiting for the wrong people to notice we'd been here too. Julie held the plain manila envelope containing the films and passports in her hand as we climbed into the rental car.

"Told you," Julie said the second my butt hit the seat and her door was shut. She reached inside the envelope pulling out the first film and held it up to the light from the street lamp coming through the passenger side window. We'd paid the maintenance guy a thousand bucks to x-ray the passports Hector had obviously tampered with before passing them on to the paperwork guy on Stark—I doubted he was capable of doing what we were looking at.

My eyes left the narrow roadway flicking to the darkened films in Julie's hand specifically on the dime sized chip that showed up inside the passport jackets thanks to the x-ray—complete with two wires running in both directions outward from the center kind of like the outline of a weirdly distorted water beetle. The devices had shown up in only two of the four passports we had—but that didn't help us either. One was in my passport and the other was in Julie's—under opposite names. No matter which identity we chose to go with for me to match Julie we had to carry a tracker.

Hector was bugging us. Literally.

"Put that away," I told her turning back to the road.

Julie stuffed the film back inside the envelope and sat still for about two seconds. "Do you think they can hear us?"

I grimaced trying to remember if we'd said anything that shouldn't be overheard.

"No." I was pretty certain you'd need some kind of larger battery source for that and the chip was pretty damn small—I assumed the lines coming off of it were transmitting wires, like antennae. It was difficult to feel the chip in the passport's jacket as well, it was hard to believe anything was in there.

But the x-ray didn't lie.

"Just in case," Julie said and opened the envelope in her lap. "I want a pony," she told the passports then closed the flap again and we drove for a while.

I would have asked to be an intergalactic princess, but that's me.

"Maybe we should microwave it."

I frowned. I didn't think microwaving passports under normal circumstances would negatively affect the documents—I also didn't know if it would set off some kind of massive alarm at Rangeman. I thought of all of my destroyed trackers and GPS locators in the past few years and how quickly my phone had started blowing up the second they bit the big one.

"No good," I said and explained my reasoning. Julie made a thinking face for a few minutes and I pulled into the beach side motel we were leaving the passports in for the night—we'd be staying in another hotel about two miles from this one, and we'd stay here only long enough to stash the bugged passports inside the hotel room safe. If anyone was tracking them we wouldn't be leading them directly to our doorstep at least. We'd switched our hotels every night since the passports arrived and we were still no closer to a permanent solution. Ella our new land-lady thought we were touring the different beaches on the island, and if this went on much longer that excuse wasn't going to hold much water.

"So we can't destroy them." Julie said. "We don't have two matching ones," No matter which name we chose we'd have a virtual GPS tail thanks to Rangeman. Exactly what we didn't want. We needed whole new passports still, good ones that would pass an international inspection so we could switch countries if need be. "Can we pay someone to take the chip out?"

I pursed my lips. "Names are probably Rangeman flagged too." The second we jumped on another ship, or flight they'd know.

"I have an idea for that," Julie said and she had a downright scary twinkle in her eye that kinda reminded me of Lester.

"Oh boy," I glanced between her and the darkened road, "care to fill me in?"

Julie grinned.

* * *

**Stephanie's POV**

_November 28, 2013 - Day 16_

* * *

"I thought he was supposed to be here by now," Julie's voice was tense in my ear.

"He is," I repeated into the phone. "But he probably won't show up if he thinks I'm a cop—or a plant."

"Crap," Julie hung up. _Batman phone manners, definitely the DNA._

I stuffed the phone in my pocket book and tried to look natural sitting on the bench near the beach park doing, well nothing. Ten minutes later I was about to go out of my mind. I hate waiting—I suck at it—nervous waiting is even worse.

After another ten minutes a tall dark and very decent looking young man somewhere in his late twenties to early thirties headed toward my bench with a pretty purposeful looking walk. He sat at the other end and relaxed back against the wood frame looking at ease.

"Nice day," he said in slightly accented English.

"It's not bad," I agreed.

"Who was on the phone?" He asked.

I sucked in a breath, he'd been watching me, but from where? "My daughter,"

"She here?"

I held my breath for a moment, not sure what to say. I didn't know this guy from Adam. I'd gone to a few tourist bars and looked for locals—I'd had a 'few drinks' and talked about my lost passport problems, and in a few others I talked about how I'd heard people would buy a real passport for a few thousand—and that I had one to sell.

I ended up with two numbers to call for my troubles, this one had given me less heebie-jeebies when I'd held the phone—a very scientific way to pick your criminal accomplice I know, but it's rarely failed me before.

"Lady, if you're a cop—"

"I'm not a cop,"

"They always say that," he started to get up and without thinking I lunged forward and grabbed his wrist. He froze despite the fact that he had a good five inches on me and at least fifty pounds of muscle the light jacket didn't really hide. "Lady I have a gun."

"I have two guns and a knife," I shot back.

"Smart," he said.

"And I'm not a cop, I'm a terrified Mom trying to keep my kid safe," The shake in my voice was real, even if the story wasn't completely accurate.

"You're not from here," he said.

I shook my head no, he hadn't thrown my hand off him yet, or walked away. He also hadn't shot me—I guess we'd call this progress.

"State?"

"Not related to our business,"

That earned me a grin. "Who you running from?"

_The police, the FBI, my mother…_ "My kid's Dad," It was true in one case, and it was sorta true in the other. I hoped we wouldn't have to get into all of that.

"You scared?" he shot me a look over his shoulder and my first instinct was for bravado, but I didn't see how that would help.

"He can be a scary guy." I decided to say, and leave it at that.

The guy sat back down and I dropped my hand into my lap. He shoved both his hands in his jacket pockets. "Tell your kid to come out of the car."

"No,"

"Lady, tell your kid to come out or I'm going to assume you're a cop and shoot you."

"I'm not endangering my kid by bringing her over here!" I snarled back. "I don't even know you! You could be a criminal or a murder or—"

"A guy who sells fake passports?" His lips twitched up like my outrage was amusing him.

"This was a mistake." I said and moved to get up, oh well. It was worth a shot we'd have to go back to the drawing board.

"Sit down,"

"No,"

"Sit down,"

"Or what you'll shoot me?" I shot back in a snotty voice.

"Or we can't talk about price—plus people starting to think we're having a lovers spat, this is a Latin neighborhood pretty soon they're going to choose sides and it's hard to conduct business when there are too many amorous hopefuls waiting to ask you to dinner after you kick me to the curb."

_Oh Geeze_. "What is it with Latin guys?" I complained, "Is there something wrong with your DNA?" They were sex fiends, all of them!

"Querida, if that's your little girl in the red fiat you already know all about Latin guys." He shot me a wider grin and I resisted the urge to smack him in the back of the head like Tank does to Lester.

"How do you know it's my kid?"

"I have eyes—she picks up her phone at the same time you answer yours,"

_Damn_.

"Her father, he is Puerto Rican?"

"Cuban,"

He shrugged. "huh, I'm rarely wrong, it's a gift, you sure there's no Puerto Rican in there?"

"Positive." I snapped.

"Would you like some in you?"

_That's it, I was going to shoot him._ I reached for my waist band under my jacket and Latin Lover slid his ass across the bench seat grabbing my wrist before it came back out with the nine millimeter tucked into my waist. His other arm landed across the back of the bench, his fingers toying with the ends of my pony tail while I glared at him.

"Only teasing Querida, let go of the gun—you are definitely not a cop."

"Because I tried to shoot you?" I said still feeling cranky.

"Because you are much too pretty,"

I snorted. "Watch it. I might shoot you still."

"No need, are you buying or selling?" He said suddenly all business except for his hand still absentmindedly flicking the ends of my ponytail.

"What?"

"You're passport needs Querida, Buying new papers, altering names on ones you have, or selling what you got?"

I frowned. "I'm not sure," I admitted, "Both," I decided. "And I need someone who can remove a tracker from a passport jacket without damaging it."

Latin Lover shot me a look. "Your Old Man dressed up your passports?"

"He knows a lot of people," I explained. I wasn't sure what 'dressed up' meant, but I assumed it dealt with the trackers.

"Mofia, or Military?"

"Um," I thought of Rangeman and bit my lip, "Sorta, both?"

Latin Lover sighed. "It is always the beautiful ones who bring the most trouble,"

I wasn't sure that was complimentary. I scowled. "Can you help me or not?"

"Si, yes. I can help solve all three of your problems. But it sounds like you might need to pay me for these services, this is not a simple paper switch."

"I have cash," I said in a tone that clearly said what I meant was I have cash and I'm not sleeping with you.

He grinned, "Cash is good, other arrangements would be better."

"I still have that gun."

"Two of them," he reminded me, "and a knife."

"That's right."

"Keep threatening to shoot me and I'm going to assume that's your idea of foreplay."

"Uhn." I said and rolled my eyes for emphasis.

His grin widened. "Where are these passports?"

"Somewhere else," I said firmly.

"Making sure I wasn't the policía?"

_Something like that._ "What do I call you?" All I'd gotten was a number, I kind of felt like I needed a name.

"Anton," he said "and you?"

"Stacy,"

"Sure," he said, "If that's what you want to go with."

"That's my name!" I snapped and Anton grinned.

* * *

**Stephanie's POV**

_November 30, 2013 - Day 18_

* * *

Two days later I was working a shift in the Café below our apartment for the land lady Ella. I'd just cleared the only table left over from a busy lunch when I felt like someone was watching me. Julie was in the kitchen doing dishes so I knew it couldn't be her. I carefully searched the café until I found Anton sitting in the very back booth, his back to the wall in a posture that was far too familiar.

I scowled picked up the plastic dish tub in my hands and carted it toward the kitchen stopping by his booth and setting it on the table. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Lunch?" Anton asked.

I slid into the bench seat opposite him and leaned closer hissing "Stop Bullshitting me! Who are you working for?!"

"You called _me_ Querida," He said it like I might be a little slow.

I frowned and leaned back against the seat not convinced. "I don't trust you," I said.

"Noted." Anton said. "And wise," he added. "I have your trackers for you, expensive equipment—it's not active if you want to know. They're pulse trackers, and they weren't on. My guess is someone put them in there for emergencies, you still want them removed?" He gave me a long look.

I glared back. "Positive."

He shrugged and draped both his arms over the backside of the cloth lined booth. "Done, I assume you want the Trackers back and you want to sell the passports to me in exchange for different names?"

I nodded slowly. "But I don't want to sell them yet, I don't want them used by anyone until I'm ready. I'll buy the new passports now in cash." I told him. Julie and I had planned to give the flagged passport to someone with enough cash to send them on a one week vacation somewhere else while we used the new ones to get away clean-Rangeman and the FBI would most likely leave them alone the moment they realized they weren't us...probably.

Anton gave me another long look. "I need you do to something for me first."

"I thought we already cover that." I growled.

"It isn't sex," Anton sighed.

"I'm not doing other _stuff_ either," I clarified.

"You spend a lot of time with lawyers? You're a very literal person." Anton said.

_I spent a lot of time with an opportunist._

Anton shot me a grin. _Crap. Out loud._ I sighed deciding to ignore my own slip. "I assume you won't give me the passports until I help you out with this…job?"

"No I'd still give them to you, but the fee just went up. Doubled."

"You're an asshole."

He shrugged. "I hear you work with opportunists,"

I scowled. "This isn't anything illegal is it?" I asked.

Anton grinned, "You mean like acquiring fake passports to flee the country?"

_Yeah, exactly like that, and point taken._

"Do I look like a guy who would get you in trouble with the law?" Anton said.

"You look like a guy who'd sell his Mother for a nickel." I shot back.

Anton barked out a short laugh grinning fiercely at me. "That's just plan mean. I love my Madre, she's a fantastic cook. I'd never sell her for a nickel."

I rolled my eyes. _He was missing my point, and he was clearly doing it on purpose._

"I'll prove it. Come to dinner Saturday night, bring Stacy Jr."

"Her name is Allison," I reminded him.

"Of course it is." Anton said not looking convinced enough to stop grinning.

"I'm not going to your mother's house." I said. "And I'm not sleeping with you."

"You sure?"

"Do you want me to shoot you?!" I demanded.

"Back to that again?" Anton asked.

"Tell me about this thing you need done so I can get my passports." When at an impasse, change the subject. It always worked for Ranger.

"I'm having a problem finding someone,"

I sucked in a breath and my spidey sense started going crazy. "I couldn't possibly help with that," I said.

"It's easy, I just need you to go into a building, keep an eye out and tell me when he shows up."

"Are you a bounty hunter?"

Anton shot me a look. "Something like that,"

"What goes on in this building?" I asked.

Anton reached down to the bench seat and grabbed a plain manila folder off the seat and tossed it on to the table in front of me. He left his hand on the table after he did and waited for me to flip it open.

"You want me to pose as a stripper? I'll pay the double fee," I'd rather pay triple! No way in hell!

"I want you to be a waitress," he clarified. "No one has to see your tanga, promise."

"My What?!"

"Your thong. You are cute when you blush. Uniform is black pants and black shirt—something tight. Better tips."

"Gee thanks,"

"I'd pick you up but—"

"No way in hell I'm getting in a car with you," I answered for him.

Anton waved a hand between us to say 'I figured as much' and something on the inside of his forearm caught my eye. I sucked in a breath and Anton dropped his eye and turned over his own arm to see what he'd missed. He raised one eyebrow at me and held my gaze for almost a full minute. Neither of us moved.

There was a special forces insignia tattooed on the inside of his left forearm. All the hair on my arms stood on end and I got up so quick I banged my knee into the underside of the table making all the dishes in the plastic bin shift with a loud clatter. "I changed my mind, I have to go,"

Anton snatched my wrist from his spot on the bench. "Just so you know, the other number you collected on your fact finding mission is not such a nice guy—you'd rather deal with me."

"How do you know about the other number?" I snatched my wrist out of his grasp and he let me—because I certainly wasn't stronger then him. Not by a long shot.

"Don't run, not yet, you need the passports. I need this guy off the streets. It's a mutually beneficial relationship. You need to be careful who you ask favors from."

"I know that," I growled. Then I just kept standing in front of his booth not sure what else to say. I needed those passports. And I didn't get the feeling that Anton was a bad guy…just not a particularly honest guy. We were at an impasse yet again.

Anton stood up and I backed up two steps so he wasn't towering over me. He picked the file up off the table and passed it back to me. "Help me out, and no one finds you,"

"Is that blackmail?" I asked not reaching for the file.

"It's a promise, Querida. You help me I make sure you know how to _stay_ gone. You've been brilliant so far, but you're in enemy territory and you're in danger if you attract the wrong attention. Protect your Babe girl, No one finds you until you are ready."

I took the file.

* * *

TBC... uh oh, who's this guy? ; P


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer: **Not mine!

**Notes: **_Huge thanks to the readers/reviewers!_

_This chapter is a bit short because I did a chapter for the other story that smacked me in the head today... will try to get the next one out tomorrow!_

* * *

**Chapter Thirteen**

Stephanie POV

_December 3, 2013 - Day 21_

* * *

_I still can't believe I agreed to this._

Ella the land lady is going to be downstairs in her apartment tonight not that she has any idea what's going on with her tenants upstairs, she still thinks we're on a nice relaxing mother/daughter vacation. Part of me wants to ask Ella to come up and sit with Julie, but I can't think of a plausible reason a mother would leave her eleven year old daughter alone on vacation at almost eleven O'clock at night. No reason's I'm comfortable having her consider anyways—I'm supposed to be a married woman, I think, maybe…honestly we never actually said whether I was married to Julie's Father when we talked to Ella, and I mean it's not like I'm wearing a wedding ring. _Ugh. __Nevermind._

I have to leave Julie here—alone, and I'm really not comfortable with that. But we don't have a lot of options, I certainly can't take her with me tonight, even if we weren't going to a strip club I'm damn certain even without my spidey sense there's an element of '_the shit might hit the fan_' in this job Anton has got me roped into. Not that I have a choice. As much as I'd like to say 'Hell No!' and hit the road with Julie we really need clean passports and I highly doubted we'd have better luck securing them in another country—if we even made it that far on our current paperwork.

I unwrapped the towel from around my body and opened the top drawer on the tallboy dresser in my room. I had laid out most of my clothes before I'd gotten into the shower but now that I was out and my hair was done and my makeup was on even _with_ four coats of mascara for courage I was feeling like I needed a little extra boost of confidence. I was wearing all black tonight anyways; maybe the continuing the theme would give me strength. I fished the single pair of Rangeman panties I'd worn out of Trenton from the drawer and slid them on wondering if I'd ever feel comfortable with my crazy life. I grimaced, with the way things were going, probably not.

I slid the drawer shut and turned back to the bed grabbing the closest thing to a push-up bra I now owned—it wasn't much help and I didn't have much to go on without a little extra oomph in the padding. I shifted things around and frowned at my reflection in the tiny mirror and then sighed and pulled the black t-shirt on over my head. It was a v-neck and it was pretty wide in the shoulders showing off my collar bones and the straps of my bra which were a pale pink with a bit of a scalloped lace edge to the shoulder straps and actually made the shirt look a little more sexy, just a hint of peek-a-boo lingerie. All in all this was going to be a way more conservative outfit then I'd ever worn for any of my Rangemen distraction jobs…those usually involved slinky tight dresses or super short hem-lines.

Then I turned around and nearly screamed.

"Nice underpants," Anton said, "Never heard of _that_ brand before, I always pictured you more a lace and satin kinda girl."

"Get. Out." I said. "And how did you get _in_?"

Anton only grinned.

_Ugh!_ "Someone needs to teach me how to pick a lock." Because apparently I was the only one on the _planet_ that couldn't do it!

"I could teach you lots of things," Anton winked at me.

"Doubtful," I shot back. "Also, _not_ interested! I thought you were leaving?" He wasn't moving and I didn't have my gun within reach…I also didn't even have on any pants.

A gun hammer cocked from the doorway to our right and Anton went very still and his eyes went flat and hard. My heart leapt into my throat and my stomach dropped to my toes as alarm prickled up the back of my neck.

"You wanna get out of my Mom's bedroom," Julie said. "Now."

Anton's shoulders relaxed marginally and he offered the tense little girl holding a gun trained on his head in the doorway a crooked grin. "Sure thing niña, no need to put out anyone's eye." And just like that Anton moved to the door like that had been his plan all along. Julie moved in counter taking sideways sweeping steps rotating to keep the gun on his head and her full attention on his movements until her back was to me and Anton was standing in the open doorway several feet away from us.

"Cute kid," Anton told me right before leaving the room. "I can totally see it now, _definitely_ Cuban," then he left and pulled the door shut behind him.

"Be ready to go in five." Floated through the closed door from the living room and what sounded like the front door to the apartment swung shut.

"That was uh…" I didn't really know what to say. That had been pretty bad ass actually_. __Not that I really thought Anton was much more than a looking problem, and a bit of a loud mouth. __Batman DNA to the rescue yet again._ Still, if Julie shot him on accident we'd be in a pickle trying to hide the body; or explain it to the cops or…best not to think about it.

"That could have gone _really_ badly, I'm not sure that pulling a gun on him was such a great idea," I hedged. What if Anton had pulled one back? He was most certainly armed, if I let Julie get shot Ranger would kill me, _slowly_.

Julie dropped the .22 in one hand to her side clicking the safety back on with a flick of her thumb. I'm not sure I've ever been that comfortable handling a gun—_ever_. "Is he going to be a problem?" she asked me sounding completely calm. Meanwhile, I felt like my hands were a little shaky—and I hadn't been holding the gun, or had it pointed at me!

I stood there fighting a wave of anxiety as doubt welled up wondering how in the Hell I was supposed to keep Julie safe. I was only pretending to be a badass! I mean less than two weeks ago I'd come home covered in yogurt from an 80 year old skip and I'd kept my gun at home in a cookie jar for Christ sake because I was afraid if I carried it I'd have to shoot someone!

_Ranger I was not._ I wasn't Tank or Hal or Hector or Les either…

"I'm not sure," I replied honestly grabbing my black pants off the bedspread and stuffing my legs into them. Julie brought me the ankle holster to go under them and I tucked the mosquito she'd threatened Anton with into it and pulled the hem down over the gun.

"I'm pretty sure he knows who we are, but he doesn't seem interesting in telling anyone. At least not yet." I wasn't so sure about long term.

"Is he Rangeman?"

I frowned. "I don't think so, there's no branch in Puerto Rico," Though we weren't that far from Miami really, he could have been from the Miami office and I'd have never met him. "He's military—or was," I added thinking of the tattoo.

"That means he could be with us, or against us. I don't like this. Maybe we should just leave."

"And go where?" it was a small island and we needed those ID's. Going back stateside would only complicate things for us further. And we didn't have clean ID's passport or otherwise to do it with—chances were if Hector had our Passports tagged, he also knew the names on our other fake ID's by now, attempting to use them to get documents made for travel would simply flag in the system, and he'd probably come knocking on our door…or Tank would. Pissed off Tank.

Julie sighed and rolled her eyes up the ceiling mulling over our options. "We could go to another town, try the bar thing again—we got two numbers doing it the first time."

"And we could have just have easily attracted someone in the police asking those kinds of questions, or someone worse." I hadn't exactly been in the nicest bars when we'd tried it out—I doubted anyone in those would touch fake passports or know anyone who could alter them.

"I hate this!" Julie said scowling hard enough to do Ranger proud. "I have to just sit here while you're out doing…" she waved a hand towards the window. "Whatever the Hell it is this guy needs you to do."

"I'm just supposed to spot a guy and let him know." I tried to reassure her. "No big deal. I've done the same thing for your dad lots of times."

"yeah but you always had my Dad for backup, and the guys too. They'd never let anything happen to you." Julie frowned softly chewing on her bottom lip. "I don't know that we can trust this other guy to do the same,"

"If I'm not back in the morning you pick up that phone and call Hector."

"NO!"

"Julie! Listen to me, if I don't come back tonight Hector will leave Rangeman, he'll be here in hours tell him what you told me—he understands more English then even Ranger or Tank realize…he'll keep you safe until Ranger comes back. He's the only one still firmly in our corner as far as I know."

"How can you know that?"

"Because we have trackers, and no one's showed up yet."

"Except Anton," Julie pointed out.

"He's not Rangeman," I was more certain of that every minute I spent with him, there was something off…it was a small tingle, a minute ping on my Spidey sense or radar; whatever you wanted to call it—Anton set it off, just not the way people who usually pulled guns on me or tried to shove me in trunks or the back-seat of car's did. I didn't know _what_ to make of Anton; I didn't exactly trust him….I didn't not trust him…I was torn.

Ranger always said he operated in a 'morally grey' area where people like Morelli and the law were black and white. I was just starting to get how difficult that kind of moral code might be to maintain, especially when you really needed something done...could I kill someone to protect Julie? Would I if I thought the threat was serious enough? ...I didn't know, but the thought made me feel a bit queasy and sick.

"Promise me Jules, you have to call, if something happens to me—not just tonight; if I get hit by a car walking down the street, you have to call. We probably should have had a plan for something like this all along."

"Why didn't we email Hector when this guy showed up?"

"Because if he knows Ranger chances are he's not exactly on normal employment lists anywhere—if he meant to hurt us he could have done it easily by now—he could have shot us both in the park, or hell when he showed up in the empty restaurant the other day." I hesitated for a moment. "Hector might get that email and worry about what Ranger would think if he let us risk dealing with an unknown, Hector could show up and blow our cover on the off chance that Ranger wouldn't be happy that Anton showed up."

Then there was the fact that if Hector showed up over Anton chances are Tank would be with him….and then there'd be Les and Hal and Cal and Vince and….the FBI would hardly miss something that obvious this early in the game. I had no doubt the men at Rangemen were under surveillance and investigation—hell I walked out with their funds, I'd suspect they were involved with this crazy scheme too. And them showing up could ruin the company and Ranger's chances of ever getting to the bottom of this whole mess.

I didn't care if Ranger was mad at me…okay that's not true, the thought of ranger angry with me made me want to throw up a little bit and possibly pass out. But I didn't have to answer to Ranger like Rangeman did—I just had to keep Julie safe, if that meant risking my life, hell I'd risked it often enough for stupid pointless stuff anyway.

I glanced at the clock, it was way past five minutes. "I gotta go,"

Julie grabbed my waist in hug. "I love you, please be safe." I swallowed and fought back tears with a few swift blinks. No sense in ruining good make-up.

"Love you too Jules, I will be."

Then I went to meet Anton with the knots still twisting in my stomach and a sour taste that felt very much like fear on the back of my tongue.

* * *

TBC...


	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer:** Not mine

Thanks everyone!

Hope this chapter pleases!

* * *

**Chapter Fourteen**

_Stephanie's POV_

_December 3, 2013 - Day 21_

* * *

The strip club wasn't as bad as I thought it was going to be. But then my expectations hadn't been that high to begin with.

I'd refused to ride with Anton—and he didn't want us arriving at the same time and drawing attention to ourselves. He did however give me rather easy directions, and an address. And then he tailed me almost the entire way to a small town outside San Juan roughly forty-five miles down the road.

The land here was even more steeply sloped then the rolling spaces around San Juan and some of the twisty turns in the dark made my stomach churn nervously. I ended up slowing down quite a bit on the turns after the first few miles and a lot of cursing when they snuck up on me— I wasn't interested in having an accident way out here with Julie all alone and only Anton to depend on. We might have jug handle off ramps in Jersey—but these were jug handles with serious drop offs! A little bit scary, even for a born-and-trained-to-drive-in Jersey-girl!

Anton apparently thought I drove like a little old lady—or perhaps he's spent time in Jersey himself because after the fourth or fifth turn at about thirty-five miles an hour he started sounding the horn of his four door army green hard top Jeep at me—that's right army green, not black. I'd noted that when he'd walked towards it beeping open the door and climbed into it in the parking lot.

See? Not a black car, definitely can't be Rangeman!

Regardless of Anton's speed-racer preference I maintained my speed and safety—I needed to make it home to Julie after all and the next corner that he blew the horn at me I rolled down the window just enough to stick my arm out the window and shot him a genuine half-Italian Jersey-tested hand gesture.

He stopped honking after that, but he did ride my bumper a few times.

When I finally pulled into the lot it was quarter to midnight. I parked in an empty spot—of which there were quite a few and checking the folder with this guy's picture one more time under the visor's dome light before I exited the car, locked it with the little electric key fob and stuffed the key into my pocket. I went in the front door and asked the guy in the window for 'Lola' and was quickly introduced to a dark haired, dark eyed woman just slightly past her prime years with a hard eye and a disarming smile.

She quickly told me she was expecting me earlier in broken English and between my knowledge of Spanish and her English we quickly covered what I had to do to maintain my cover in the bar. It wasn't complicated at all but I was a little nervous because this was the kind of information I would have normally gone over with Ranger if he'd been here. I was chewing my bottom lip nervously by the time Lola handed me a plain black circular tray to collect empty drinks and a small pad and pen in case I needed to write down the drink orders—which shouldn't be a problem it wasn't even that busy in here. Then she went to take care of other things and I spent the next two hours wandering around the dark interior trying not to catch my toe on the uneven roughed up bits of carpet or the uneven three step staircase leading between the floor level and the raised area around the bar and singular pool table.

Without any Merry Men as fill in customers I was stuck actually dealing with real ones and reminding half-drunken vacationers and locals alike that I was a waitress not a lap-dancer, I was damn near cross-eyed and trying to remind myself with deep breathing to not launch into full-blown-rhino-mode the next time I had to avoid some jack-asses overly friendly hands trying to grab my ass when I walked by.

By close to 2am I had about had it with this job—and Anton, whom I hadn't seen or heard from since I'd walked in. Anytime I did the shit for Ranger I always had my eye on at least _one_ of the Merry Men on the inside—and I knew without a doubt, even without a wire, that Ranger and Tank would be waiting just outside.

With Anton I wasn't sure he hadn't boosted my POS roller-skate of rental car and left my ass stranded. I was about to call it quits and say the hell with it—I hadn't seen the guy, he obviously wasn't coming in since it was almost closing time. I'd just seen a lot of drunken leering men and between you and me way more skin and silver glitter then I ever wanted to see again. I was weighing the options of using my phone in the bathroom to call Anton's number and tell him I was done or just walking out the front door and leaving—he'd figure it out, when I spotted him in one of the far back booths.

He waved me over with a head bob like he wanted a drink and I considered clobbering him in the head with the tray when I was two feet away.

He shot me a slow grin, obviously reading my face. "You gonna hit me with that thing, Querida?"

"I won't say it didn't cross my mind," I narrowed my eyes holding the pad of paper and pen in my hands, the tray tucked under one arm like this conversation was actually about what Anton wanted to drink and not about me braining him with the serving-ware.

Anton's eyes flicked around the bar once more. "He didn't show, too bad. I was hoping to prevent further problems; but perhaps he's moved on, that would be convenient—for both of us." He was talking in riddles, and I got the feeling part of that conversation was for himself—maybe I wasn't the only one with internal monologue problems.

He stood up slowly and waved an arm towards the bar for me to walk with him. He quietly thanked Lola for the help—I assumed, it was in Spanish I only caught half the words they spoke so fast. Then he slipped what looked like a small fold of bills into the bartender—and partial owner's hand.

"Better luck next time," The bartender drawled in a heavy accent, his words practiced no doubt for the English speaking vacationers scattered around the bar.

"Si," Anton said and waved me toward the door again.

I waited until we were in the lot to speak. "This better not mean I don't get my paperwork—I held up my end of the deal, it's not my fault your information was no good."

"He didn't show, but that's not your fault. It's is too bad, I needed this intel," He stopped and shrugged one shoulder like he really couldn't care either way.

I stopped considering his words. "You're not a bounty hunter are you?" Anton stared at me for a moment.

"It's complicated."

I frowned. My Spidey sense didn't like that answer, neither did my gut. I opened my mouth to ask more questions, my curiosity piqued despite my desire to be done with this place. Anton shook his head no and I closed my mouth again and made a frustrated noise in the back of my throat to which his lips twitched northward.

"Let's get out of here," Anton said and we moved across the dark parking lot, the street lamp on the corner was still out—shocking right? With nothing but moonlight to see the ground I was focusing more on not tripping in a pot-hole or over my own feet then in really looking where we were going.

When we were maybe half-way across the lot there as a massive explosion that rattle the windows on the car's all around the lot setting off one high pitched alarm on one of the newer vehicles. I cringed and sucked in a breath a something rock hard slammed into my body realizing as I fell backward what that sound was.

I was waaaay too familiar with that sound, I was praying I was wrong though we didn't need any more complications.

I had no time to react before I hit the pavement with a painful grunt and the familiar sting of road rash—there was a heavy weight on top of me threatening to force the last bit of air left over from the shock of the explosion and the startled painful exhale of my fall from my lungs. I didn't have to turn my head and pry my eyes open to know Anton had thrown us both down when the explosion went off. The crushing weight of muscle and warm skin now on top of me smashing me into the rough pavement threatening to take the rest of the skin off my cheek was a dead-giveaway.

"Get _off_ me," I gasped weakly…or I tried to but there wasn't much air left in my lungs to get the sound out so I was stuck shoving ineffectively with weak jelly-feeling arms at his greater weight. I rolled my head at the sound of the second explosion and a screeching _Bang!_ to see Anton's once shiny jeep had somehow flipped mid-air following the initial explosion and landed roof-side-down to lie stacked on top of a white and rust Camry that probably belonged to one of the dancers.

Anton was watching too as a giant fireball rolled up the sides of the jeep licking towards the upside-down undercarriage and twisting up into the night. A second roaring explosion shooting flames into the night signaled the flames having reached the gas tank. He pushed up from me, still shielding my body in a strange sort of push up position and shot me a look. "I swear that almost never happens."

_I wish I could say the same._

I shoved at his chest again and he finally shifted backwards pushing up to stand and offering me a hand up from the lot. We stood for a moment staring at the flames and brushing gravel off our clothes. I'd torn my pants hitting the lot and I had a few abrasions to the back of my left elbow and forearm judging by the sting. The collar of my t-shirt also seemed to be wider than it should have been hanging farther off my shoulder then it did moments before displaying almost one full cup of my bra. I reached tentatively behind me with one hand and found it ripped from where I'd crashed down to the lot or possibly from Anton's grip when he'd shoved me down to shield me from the explosion.

It could have been a lot worse if we'd been any closer to the thing…then I was suddenly struck with a new thought.

_Who the fuck was trying to blow up Anton?_I turned away from the flames and Anton caught my eye. "Who the hell are you?" I rasped still trying to catch my breath.

Anton frowned. "That's…complicated, Querida."

_Complicated?_ I didn't need complicated. I didn't need exploding cars, and mystery men and spotting random gentlemen in seedy-bars! I stared at the firelight licking off the top of his vehicles undercarriage and tried to think of what to say to that, something that wouldn't involve a lot of screaming and Italian hand gestures.

"Screw this." I said. I had enough problems. I wasn't getting involved. I didn't want to be involved, I didn't need to deal with the cops which was sure to happen if I stick around to getting information I didn't care about regarding who might try to blow Anton up. I fished my keys from my back pocket.

"You going to just leave me here?" Anton said shifting to watch me.

"Yup," I told him. "I'm starting to think these passports are more trouble than good,"

"Wait,"

I didn't. Anton grabbed my arm and I rolled my shoulder despite the sting of scrapped skin twisting my wrist mid-jerk in a move Tank had taught me and yanked my hand from his grasp.

"Stop it." Anton said his tone daring me to argue with him. But he didn't grab me again either. He just walked towards my car sweeping me up with a hand against my lower back. "Let's go, now."

"I'm not going anywhere with you!" I snarled. "In case you didn't notice someone just blew up your car!" I stared at my rental as we quickly approached it sucking in a breath wondering if it might go up in flames too.

"Let's hope not, if they made you this quickly we have greater problems then I thought." Anton said, either reading my facial expression or I'd said that out loud, again—I also found the second half of his statement gut wrenching.

"Relax Querida. It's a long walk back to town and the cops are probably on the way, no doubt the owner had already called to report the disturbance. Sticking around to answer questions and see who shows up to see if they were successful might not be the healthiest decision—for either of us."

I stopped beside the car squaring my shoulders and meeting Anton's dark eyes over the hood of the car. "Who are you?"

Anton gave me a blank look.

"Give me something or your ass can walk."

"I could take the keys."

"I could shoot your ass."

His lips twitched up in a small grin. "Back to that again?" His eyes swept over me from across the top of the car. "Ankle holster? I was trying to figure out where you had the piece in those tight ass jeans all night, get in."

He opened the door and climbed in and I waiting a moment longer hand on the door torn listening to the wires in the jeep or the seat material as it melted pop and crack in the lot behind me, and the sirens I could barely make out now somewhere in the distance. I couldn't help Julie if I was in police custody.

I picked the lesser of two evils—_I hoped_, and got in the car.

The drive back to San Juan was silent. I didn't know what to say, and Anton didn't offer to talk. My stomach was an even tighter mass of knots when I found on street parking a block and a half from the café—at this hour there'd be no spaces left in the tiny lot that was closer. I should probably just get rid of the rental—it was inconvenient to use with the narrow streets and the last thing I needed was someone blowing it up and dragging me into a mess that way.

"Quickly," Anton instructed me as we exited the fiat and moved up the cobblestone street—there was no one else out at this hour but Anton's eyes flicked here and there in constant motion. He held the door for the upstairs apartments beside the café's front door open his head swiveling without being too obvious to check up and down the street one last time. I didn't question when he followed me up, I got the feeling based on his behavior on the drive and the tense set of his shoulders as we made the walk to the front door that he wouldn't listen anyway.

Julie emerged from her bedroom despite the late hour the moment the door to the apartment opened and I felt the tension settled around my heart ease a little bit. I let out a huffing sigh and Julie's eyes went wide before she flashed an angry look to Anton who was securing the front door despite the fact that the same locks hadn't kept him out only hours before.

"What happened?" Julie demanded rushing to the small kitchen and bringing me a cold wet washcloth. Guess I might look worse than I thought.

"Minor explosion," Anton said.

"The car?" Julie asked her eyes flicking back to me.

"Not ours."

"Someone blew up your car?" She was watching Anton as he moved around the apartment drawing curtains closed and checking the lock on the balconies French doors. She said nothing as he slid one of the living room chairs over in front of the doors parking the top of the chair's back under the two handles bracing them.

I watched without comment.

"Stay away from the windows," Anton said and moved to the bedrooms I assumed to close those as well—it was either that or he was pawing through my underwear drawer and right at this moment I wasn't sure I gave a shit about that.

It was all boring cotton anyway.

"What happened?" Julie asked me while he was gone and I filled her in quickly. Most of the night could be summed up in a few short sentences anyway.

"So someone tried to kill you," She asked Anton when he came back from her bedroom.

"It's been known to happen,"

Which wasn't a really helpful answer. Then he made it worse by adding; "They may have thought we drove together and hoped to strand us, or they wanted to force you into the hands of the policía."

"Me? It was your car! No one even knows we're here!" I shrieked.

"Oh they know Querida,"

"Who?" Julie asked, "The FBI? Rangeman?"

"You wish it was the FBI, although in their hands your death would no doubt be just as swift."

"The FBI is trying to kill me?" I breathed feeling a bit dizzy.

"Of course not, they're simply incompetent—as usual."

"Then who?"

"Someone who wants you dead," Anton said dropping into the chair opposite the couch.

"No someone want's you dead—it was your car, which is why I think you should leave." I added, "I don't think we should be friends." I had enough problems.

"I think we both need these guys dead," Anton said and my heart dropped into my stomach.

"I'm not killing anyone!" I didn't even know who they were!

"They want to kill you,"

"No, they want to kill you, I haven't pissed off anyone in weeks—well except Tank but I doubt he'd try to blow me up! I haven't even had a stalker in months!"

"You lead a truly interesting life Querida we should discuss it further sometime," Anton cut me off with a quirk of his lips. "But they do want you dead, to forget that or ignore it would be a deadly mistake one you are not going to make."

"This didn't happen until you showed up!" Julie shot back, "How do we know that you didn't orchestrate this whole thing!"

I sucked in a breath. She had a good point, I just don't know if I'd have said it out loud in front of him like that.

Anton didn't look phased at all. "If I wanted you dead I'd have done it already,"

That didn't make me feel any better.

"It's not supposed to," Anton said. "These people are dangerous—and pissed off."

"What people! I haven't had enough time here to piss anyone off enough to kill me!" At least I didn't think I had, with my life I seemed to stumble into these situations quite a lot. Joe usually started ranting right about now about how this was all my fault.

"It's not your fault," Anton said. "It's that asshole Manoso's."

My blood froze and I tried to keep my face blank. "Who?"

"Nice try, they want him to pay, they want him to bleed—and they want him dead. But Manoso's not so easy to kill, and he's also not afraid to die. They also know if he goes away someone else will take his place—there is always another hero waiting to cause them problems, another government another white knight, They want to send a message. Someone's decided it would send a better message to take away his woman and his babe girl, that's his weakness—the best way to make him feel their pain, send a message to the rest of the world that they are scarier than Manoso—and if they are scarier than Manoso, if they break the man himself they think no one else will dare move against them. No one will be brave enough to even try."

"I don't understand," I said.

"Try to, and do it quickly," Anton said. "Surely Manoso told you he had enemies, why do you look surprised? I've heard you had run in's with them before."

It was true—I had, but I'd always had Ranger, Merry Men and denial to keep me safe. It had always been scary but with my amazing ability to visit denial land it had always been something I could pretend wasn't real—that I could ignore and pretend didn't happen the moment it was over.

Ranger had told me he had enemies, he'd alluded to that fact, and he'd come right out and said on one or two occasions even. But I guess a part of me wasn't listening—the part that liked to believe that his reason for not being with me was nothing more than non-commitment Bullshit because I had the same problem with Morelli and thinking about contract killers and pissed off drug-lords hiding around building corners just waiting to jump out and get me when half of the street already thought I was 'Manoso's woman' made leaving my apartment to terrifying to contemplate.

I couldn't live like that. As far as I knew only Ranger could, that's what made him Batman.

As long as I didn't believe it was a real possibility it couldn't hurt me. It was like watching one of those late night monster movies on TV. You were terrified enough to want to sleep with the lights on and jumping at shadows until you reminded yourself that monster's weren't real—that your fear was ridiculous because it wasn't possible. You're heart still tried to beat its way out of her chest when you heard an odd noise, but you quickly convinced yourself it was nothing and as long as you didn't die, you got to go right on living with your lie. I'd been doing the same thing with the 'enemy dangers' that Ranger had often hinted might pop up should he show anyone he liked having me in his life for anything more than 'entertainment'.

I also thought it was highly unfair that I was in this position now. Whatever Ranger wanted to say—whatever walls he threw up between us, no matter his 'I don't do relationships' bullshit—we _had_ a relationship, not the one I wanted but we obviously had a connection, and it was obvious to anyone that stepped within two hundred feet of us apparently.

Which meant I got to be _Manoso's women_ on the streets—but not in his life; not in his bed. I got all the danger and none of the benefits. I frowned okay, that wasn't completely fair or true, I got cars, and trackers, and panic buttons, and merry men—but what I wanted was _HIM_.

I'd been so worried about avoiding Rangeman and the FBI I'd never stopped to consider that not being near any of them might invite other problems to move in—I'd thought if Tank couldn't find us no one else could either. I'd forgotten Ranger's 'many enemies' and that the circles we were moving through now were their circles. We were tiny fish swimming in an ocean of hungry sharks.

"This isn't happening," I said. _Ah, Denial—there you are my friend._

"It is, and it will probably happen again even after this immediate threat ends—Manoso's on assignment. He doesn't' exactly hide his presence in Trenton like the rest of us, everyone knows where he is—it's not that hard for his enemies to find him—he assumes they won't make a move because they are afraid. In some countries they tell stories of the dark eyed man who comes in the night to silence those who anger him. He's the Boogey-man. A shadow that slips through the night; more than a man, he's a force of nature. That fear keeps those who might move against him frozen—they hear the stories, see the aftermath of his visits—it's never confirmed mind you. It's only rumors—whispers in the wind but it _terrifies _them. No one wants to try and fail he knowing he will destroy everything they love before finally no matter how far they run on this earth he bleeds them—slowly while they beg forgiveness."

_He made Ranger sound like a…monster._ I felt my head shake.

"If they fear him so much why are they coming after us?" Julie said.

"He is in the wind. They think they are safe to make their moves. Normally they can't get to you," he eyed me, "and Manoso did a fantastic job of keeping Julie well hidden. No one even knew that she existed until this past year and it's unfortunate events," Anton's eyes flicked over Julie but she didn't flinch or look away. "But you are no longer under Manoso's wing—and his enemies wonder if they can get to you, make the legend _bleed_—prove he is just a man then someone else might step forward and take care of the problem for them."

"So we go back to Trenton," What else could we do? I had to keep Julie safe…

"So you can be arrested? Do not think that would help you Querida, you have drawn the wrong kind of attention to yourselves already—and let us not forget you left for a very important reason not just for a 'mother daughter holiday'."

I thought about puking but didn't think it would be overly helpful right now. "And you're what, a friend? You aren't Rangeman."

Anton snorted. "I'm not interested in playing 'GI Joe Barbie' with that asshole and his clone men."

"So not friends." Julie said and her hand moved to the arm of the couch near her butt where she was sitting.

Anton watched her hand move and his brow quirked up. "You going to shoot me Nina?" My eyes flicked to the back of Julie's shirt, there was a definite line in the small of her back—where she'd tucked our other gun into the waistband of her pajama pants. "I'd rather you did not—but no I am not Manoso's 'friend. Men like Manoso do not have friends, they have contacts, assets," his eyes met mine over the coffee table, "And liabilities,"

I narrowed my eyes in return knowing exactly what category he'd shoe-horned us into. "We can take care of ourselves."

Silence was my answer.

"If you're not his friend what do you care?" I asked.

"I owe the man a favor."

"This sounds like a complicated favor." Julie said.

"I like being alive," Anton said, "Last time we met we had a—misunderstanding," Anton said.

"What kind of misunderstanding?"

"The kind that involved bullets being introduced to flesh."

"You shot Ranger?" I could barely breathe.

Anton's face spread into a slow grin like maybe it might be a good memory. "Relax he lived, but if we were to meet again without atonement on my part; I might not be able to say the same. Manoso's enemies are also _my_ enemies, so I am also doing myself a favor at the same time—and they are all moving far more openly then they normally would. They are like sharks in that respect, there is blood in the water and they are swarming to see who gets the biggest bite before they scurry like rats for the shadows again."

"So we're bait." I said the idea filled me with a new sense of dread.

Anton grinned. "I prefer to think of it as an _irresistible temptation._"

* * *

Uh oh, Trust him? Don't trust him? :) TBC...


	15. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer**_: Not mine_

**Notes**: Huge thanks to everyone reading/reviewing and PMing me on this story, I'm continually overwhelmed by the responses! Thank you, thank you!

This chapter ended up being delayed because the ceiling in our rental house fell down—literally, I wish I was kidding! It's a really old house (but the rent is cheap since we're saving to buy our first house in spring) and the drywall ceiling collapsed in our living room and not only was it a huge mess, (omg fluffy insulation everywhere! It was like indoor itchy snow!) So I've had workmen (wowzwers *drool*) and the land lady to deal with the last two days, plus half my house has to be quarantined off so my two year old couldn't injure himself!

And let me tell you, containing a two year old who's used to having run of the whole house? SO NOT FUN. _Omigod._ I think I need doughnuts….

So yeah, that's what's going on in my world, it's not an exploding car or a stalker but still, fun, fun! D:

* * *

I took a liberty with a date here, since Ms. Janet started the plum series in 1994 and that would make (with the books to date by current time standards) Stephanie close to 50! While she still hovers somewhere around 30-34? maybe? in the book-verse, it's a time-line mystery I intend to pester the Doctor into investigating one day...as soon as he shows up with his brilliant blue box...until then I decided to go with three years since EVERYTHING started in book one. This story is (Obviously) Post Scrog, (12 sharp) but I didn't narrow it down beyond that specifically. I read all of them so many years ago I've actually started re-reading them now to get the details (hopefully) right!

Lots of dialog in the end of this one, I hope it's not confusing I had a lot of trouble figuring out how to write it, let me know! :)

* * *

**Chapter Fifteen**

**Ranger's POV**

_March 31, 2014 - Day 139_

* * *

The plane was waiting on the pavement outside the hanger by the time Ranger made the rest of the drive following his meeting with Morelli. The steps rolled into place at its side tethering the open door down to the tarmac preventing flight. Ranger angled his Turbo into one of the remaining spaces on the long side of the private hanger sliding between two black Rangeman issue SUVs and cutting the engine's finely tuned purr with a twist of his hand.

They could have taken a commercial flight to their destination but not until later in the afternoon, and while it would have been cheaper, with a longer layover and the civilian crowd it was not something Ranger wanted to deal with in his current mood. He also wasn't certain their checked weapons and specialized equipment—even cleared with the appropriate paperwork and clearance wouldn't raise some red flags with homeland security and the FBI under the current investigation; plus these arrangements would allow them to openly discuss plans and any new information Rangeman uncovered during the two hour and forty minute flight to Miami, and the second two hour and thirty minute hop to the island.

Lester was already on deck, his cousin shifting bags of equipment—tracking surveillance and otherwise into the storage compartment in the belly of Rangeman's private plane.

Ranger wasn't surprised to see Hector standing with the larger man, his movements a bit slower than usual as he unzipped cases and bags, no doubt triple checking before take-off that all the equipment was ready to go, in working order and on hand. Obviously the fact that Hector had requested to go with them and been firmly denied by Bobby if not Ranger himself the previous night meant nothing to the former gang member.

His eyes caught Ranger's as he moved closer with his duffle in hand its weight barely noticed despite the weapons inside. "Hector."

Lester said nothing, but he remained close double checking the same bag a second time—obviously concerned with the tension Ranger had been displaying the last few days and the previous fight…not that Hector had thrown a single punch. The smaller man hadn't even raised his arms to defend himself, few men could have exhibited the same control in a similar situation.

"El jefe," Hector closed the zipper on one of the black bags and indicated the belly of the plane. "We are ready hour ago, wait for you." He didn't say _I'd like to go_, he didn't say _I'm going_… the hard set of his eyes even under the significant bruising spoke for him.

Ranger simply nodded in acceptance and Lester exhaled beside them with obvious relief. "Let's get going then,"

The pilot was already on board, and it took less than thirty minutes to complete the tower check and final instructions to get them onto the run-way. Ranger was already in one of the leather seat by the time they took to the air, the pull of acceleration a barely registered tickle in his abdomen, his attention firmly engrossed in the financial files, paperwork and reports on the table before him. He needed to know if they were missing anything; and it kept him from pacing the plane endlessly and making Lester wonder if he needed to stun gun him to keep him calm.

The almost three hour flight to Miami passed without Ranger's notice. When he felt the jolt of the plane landing on the runway outside the Miami-Dade County airport he glanced up and noted that Hector was asleep in one of the reclined leather seats. Lester beside him was eyeing the tablet in his hand, already connected and searching for any updates from Rangeman.

"Ric, I just got the email from Silvo, he was able to open up Julie's medical files, he also accessed the Doc's financial records. Cash deposits every time the guy saw Julie—all the amounts for both transactions add up. There's an obvious connection."

Beside them Hector was obviously awake he opened his eyes and tilted his chin toward the tablet holding out one hand for Lester to hand the device over to him. Lester was more than competent to operate the technology—but Hector was _better_.

"So Ron was paying the physiatrist, for what?"

Hector's fingers flew over the files, fingers sliding across the screen quickly and efficiently tracking his eye movements proved him to be speed reading the information entered before him. It took less time than Ranger expected before the man had an answer—one he didn't like.

"Es not payment for therapy," Hector said his expression turning thunderous despite the bruising. "Es pago (payment) for altering the notes- diagnóstico falso. (false diagnosis) This medico make it sound like Nina _sick en la cabasa_. He say she have PTSD….la Nina not sick with this, you would know."

"Why the hell would Ron pay—" Lester paused.

"—31,200 dólares," Hector filled in for him having already done the math obviously before this moment or just now in his head.

"—Shit," Lester said, "To some Quack—"

"Un pato?" Hector said eyes narrowing. (A duck?)

"El Dicho," Lester informed him, and Hector nodded slowly frowning slightly, his lips pursed probably wondering why he bothered to learn English at all with such inconsistencies. (an expression,)

"No te olvides de la ocho mil," Hector added. "después de la desaparición," (Don't forget the eight thousand, after the disappearance.)

Lester squinted doing quick math in his head, if his babe had made that same expression Ranger would have been tempted to tell her he smelled something burning. "Shit, that's almost Forty Grand." His cousin finally said.

"Hay recetas aquí en el archivo Julie no estaba tomando, varios de ellos." Hector added. (There are prescriptions here in the file Julie wasn't taking, several of them.) "Ninguno de estos medicamentos se presentó en su físico de fútbol que Rachel la tomó para haber hecho un mes antes de que se escapan." (None of these drugs showed up in her soccer physical which Rachel took her to have done a month before they run away.)

"Think Ron was selling the drugs?"

Depending on what they were they'd be worth a hell of a lot more then forty grand at street value, but he doubted Ron had the connections—or that that was his main intent. Ranger scowled shaking his head. "What drugs specifically?" Hector named them and the scowl on his face grew worse and Lester sucked in a breath his expression darkening. "They were setting her up as an unreliable source of information—they wanted to prove she was heavily medicated, and suffering delusions due to PTSD or other lingering issues after Scrog…"

"So no one would believe Julie if she tried to tell them something was really wrong," Lester snarled.

"SonofaBitch!" Ranger roared kicking the round coffee table between the four leather seats and ripping the bolts anchoring the legs right out of the floor sending it and paperwork flying. Hector froze in his seat, his eyes flicking up to watch Ranger and Lester tensed—ready to jump up and restrain his cousin should the man try to take the rest of the plane apart with his bare hands.

The pilot in the cockpit—obviously reacting to the loud voices and sudden noise through the cockpit door came over the intercom asking if everything was alright. Lester shot Ranger a questioning look and Ranger nodded once turning away to pace the carpet running the length of the plane like a caged and hungry panther.

"We're good," Lester informed the intercom. "Just needed to make some room."

"Who else did she reach out to? Check her cellphone log—who did she speak to, and when, check her school records, see if she mentioned anything to teachers, coaches or guidance counselors." Ranger ordered.

Hector worked furiously while the jet refueled, received clearance and taxied back down the runway to hack into Julie's school records and discovered that Julie had met with the school guidance counselor several times in the last two months and alleged that her step father was trying to get her kidnapped and was drugging her.

By the time they were in the air and half-way to San Juan. They knew that Julie had gone from using her phone everyday several times a day, texting and talking like any normal pre-teen girl, to not using it at all in the last 42 days before they'd run —except to phone Stephanie once a week, and always at the same time. And the calls started lasting no longer then a few minutes—a far cry from the thirty minute to hour and a half conversations they'd shared off and on since Scrog. It also did not escape their notice that the phone calls might have been monitored since the calls took place at the same time and always when Ron would have been conceivably home from his job—something Hector confirmed by hacking into the man's day planner online.

Several different pharmacies had filled the orders for Julie's various prescriptions during the months they'd been issued—but her pediatrician had completed two physicals since the start of Julie's therapy—three if they included the one done just after Scrog. All three included blood work and no drugs. Even more telling perhaps when Rachel, who was the parent listed in the notes as attending with Julie, was questioned about any medications her daughter was taking the only one she'd listed was '_Flintstone vitamins once a day'_ and _'__occasional children's Tylenol'_ which was a far-cry from the anti-psychotics and anti-depressants that were heavily mentioned in Dr. Nikolas prescribing notes—which made them wonder if Rachel had any idea what her husband was up to at the time of the doctor's appointments—or even now.

In contrast the hand written lab reports and rather blank looking printouts lacking any patient information, so they could have been from anyone at Dr. Nikolas' office showed Julie's blood levels for the medications at the same time displaying acceptable levels of these medications in her blood—testing that was required by medical standards when prescribing such heavy levels of anti-psychotics and anti-depressants together in such a young child.

Two different doctors. Two _very_ different reports.

"Contact Agent Fuller," Ranger informed Lester as they were landing. "Ask him why this wasn't investigated four months ago." Lester nodded and retrieved a phone moving off to the back of the plane to make it happen.

The fact that they were off the case—officially, and not supposed to be looking into these things privately wasn't mentioned by the other two men.

No one wanted to be thrown out the door.

* * *

Landing in San Juan went smoothly, as did the process for renting the four door Jeep, one of the largest vehicles available with the narrow side and main streets in old town. Hector and Lester had the equipment moved, loaded and ready to go in less than twenty minutes and they exited the airport proper and begin cruising the streets.

It didn't take them long to narrow down the GPS's secondary signal—a local transmitter though far from pin-point accurate into a location roughly a quarter mile circle. Hector using a small device in his hands to watch the signal's strength and direct Lester where and when to turn as they wound their way around town drawing a tighter and tighter grid to search in.

Finally narrowing it down further and searching for clues became a far more tedious endeavor undertaken by all three men on foot. Between weeding out tourists, who were far more likely to ask the men where to find a public restroom or cross the street when they saw them coming and trying to convince the locals they weren't cops it was slow going. They stopped frequently sometimes every few feet showing photos to shop owners, café waiters and waitresses and a few residents residing on front stoops and second floor balconies.

After a block and a half Ranger stopped asking by silent agreement and simply looked around, too many of the locals took one look at the photos and started to eye him suspiciously a few particularly brave old men even cursed at Ranger waving their arms telling him they wanted nothing to do with such an angry man finding anyone—even his missing wife and son, and that perhaps he should leave them alone.

Lester tried to suggest maybe he should smile while handing the photos out for better results and after a dangerous look from Ranger quickly shut up again. Hector didn't fare much better as most woman shied away from his tattoos and many of the men asked what a gangster would want with such a nice young woman and little girl. This left Lester doing most of the talking while Hector subtly attempted to further narrow down the signal and Ranger leaned against various walls while he waited, arms crossed and giving off the general overall impression of being hostile.

By close to three pm Lester complained he couldn't possibly go any farther without lunch and they entered the very next café on their current side of the road. The tables were moderately busy and a young local girl with a pony tail and dark eyes smiled and directed them to take a seat in a booth near the back wall with a view of the cork message board filled with overlapping photos of tourists and locals alike and a clear view to the café entrance beside the dark wood bar.

They ordered quickly in Spanish to the young waitresses delight. She blushed darkly and repeatedly every time she caught Lester eye. Hector pointedly ignored them both staring at the photo collage on the wall long wall. Ranger shifted his attention when the smaller man stood up.

"Qué edad es esto?" Hector asked the young woman drawing Ranger and Lester's mutual attention to the cork board beside their heads. (How old is this?)

The girl informed them pointing with her pen that the board had always been there, and that Ella the owner only put up photos of tourists with their permission perhaps sensing that having _their_ photo displayed on a wall in full view of the bar would not be something any of the men she was waiting on would be comfortable with.

"This woman," Hector reached up and pulled one of the photos off the board holding it up to her immediately making both Ranger and Lester stand and move to inspect the photos on the board much closer.

"Holy Shit!" Lester said.

The girl stammered watching them move and insisted she didn't know who the tourist in the photo was, the line between her brow creased when Hector cut her off with a shake of his head pointing with one hand.

"la camarera , cuando no se presenta?" (The waitress, when does she come in?)

The girl shook her head again and told them she didn't work here anymore, she'd been gone for almost two months. Instantly the tension in the men was palpable again. Ranger cursed under his breath trying not to scare her out of talking when this was their first concrete clue since arriving. Carefully taking one of the photos down and holding it in his hand he inspected it closer though there wasn't really any doubt. It was definitely his Babe she was not the subject of the photo—she might not even have realized she was in the background when it was being shot. But here was proof, regardless, she'd been here, worked in this very café.

"Gone where?" He breathed the photo shaking slightly in his hands suddenly trembling hands.

"I do not know." She answered in softly accented English watching them inspect the board. "Ella vivía arriba hasta que el fuego," (she lived upstairs until the fire.)

"Qué fuego ?!" "What Fire?!" All three snapped.

The girl jumped dropping her notepad and pencil to the floor one hand clutched over her heart wide eyed.

"Había una niña con ella, eran uno de ellos herido?" (There was a little girl with her, were either of them hurt?)

The girl shook her head no quickly and shoulders and expressions visibly relaxed around her. Lester moved around the table and even approaching slowly the girl backed up frowning as he stooped to grab the pad and pencil handing it back to her. "I'm sorry, Lo siento, sabes lo que provocó el incendio?" Lester asked. (I'm sorry, do you know what caused the fire?)

"No, Pero tia Ella hace." (No, but Aunt Ella does,)

She missed the look and quirk of lips exchanged between the two larger men at the mention of the name.

Their waitress went to ask her Aunt to speak with them their food long forgotten despite Lester's previously complaining stomach. Five minutes later the woman known as Ella who ran the café with her husband and lived above it approached them she took one look at Ranger smiled and told them she had been expecting them much sooner in her native Spanish and to follow her please to the apartment upstairs.

She led all three men not even sparing a glance to Hector's tattoo's past the second floor landing and up to the top floor where a she inserted a key into two padlocks and opened the door for them before stepping back to let them pass.

"They left after the fire, no one was hurt—not even the little one. Stacy came back later for the items in the safe, and they paid me to keep it just as it is for the next four months."

"They paid for you to leave the apartment empty, like this?"

"Si, she said it was important nothing was disturbed until you arrived. And the insurance money for a fire like this, it takes a long time to go through, I'm still waiting if she had not paid me things would be tight right now." The older woman shrugged and smiled softly at them. "She said what you are looking for is in the safe, and you would know the combination, she set it before she left. I'll be downstairs in the kitchen if you need anything else; I assume you will want those lunches as take-out?"

"Yes," Lester nodded enthusiastically making the woman's grin widen.

"Señora , Sabe usted lo que provocó el incendio?" Hector asked before she'd made it to the first stair. (Mrs, do you know what caused the fire?)

She shook her head sadly and frowned, "They said it was a bomb. If it wasn't for that nice young man there might not have been anything left." Then she went downstairs waving a hand and telling them their lunch would be ready in ten.

"Bomb?" Lester asked eyeing the scarred walls and water damaged wood floors. Black soot from smoke faded in and out in patches around the once pale yellow ceiling. There were a few empty spaces that looked like furniture had been removed—probably the items that couldn't sit due to the massive damage to them and offered no information for them to use.

"I find this safe," Hector said and moved off to search the rooms. He called almost immediately from the one on the right that he'd found it and would have it open in no time. Having Hector meant they hardly had to sit around guessing at combinations all day. Meanwhile Ranger and Les made short work of searching the rest of the apartment. Based on the damage and the boarded up French door and window it would appear someone or several someone's had lobbed something through the glass—it was unlikely the shattered glass was only from heat since the other windows nearby had remained intact.

It also explained why the couch was gone—whatever was lobed through the window would have most likely landed there first and gone up like a roman candle. It was obvious the second small room was his daughters based on the few clothing items left behind, and other than a suspiciously absent bedspread and seriously rumpled sheets there wasn't a great deal of damage. The larger room, obviously the master and the one Hector had disappeared into upon their arrival to find the safe must have been his Babe's.

They'd just entered the room and found Hector hunched on the floor of the closet when there was a click and Hector pulled open the door of the safe.

"You cracked it that fast?" Lester asked sounding a little surprised. And Ranger wondered if anyone else might have gotten in it since they'd left and taken what was left before they could find it.

"No, I guess the combination instead. Good thing, this is good safe—bitch to open."

Ranger stared at him until he shrugged and said, "8-26-11," Ranger frowned and Hector nodded his chin grinning when the recognition hit.

"What does that mean? It's not her birthday, or Julies… How the Hell did you guess that?" Les frowned.

"Es the day he met Stephanie." Hector acknowledged though why Hector knew that date he wasn't sure. "I keep list of possible combinations, codes for her since they run—birthdays to obvious, most people guess that. Not many people know significant dates."

"So what's in there?" Les asked dropping his ass onto the bed.

Hector pulled out a seriously stuffed envelope and handed it up to Ranger. Ranger dumped its contents onto the  
bedspread beside Les and they stared at the 8 x10s of the cruise and several dozen 4x6 photos printed since then.

"Lots of photos," Les observed grabbing a handful and shuffling through. "Damn beautiful looks good in a bikini…"

Ranger growled and Lester continued flipping through the photos.

"Here is what I think we are meant to find." Hector said standing and bringing them an envelope with a recording device inside. Ranger grabbed the device pressing play and after a few moments Julie's voice came spoke. "This is a recording of Ron Martine my step father making plans over the phone for our family vacation to Mexico. This is a copy and I have the original, there are also several copies hidden in secure locations."

All three men sat very still listening to the static pop of the recording—it was obvious that Julie had had to turn up the first recording to near maximum volume to make the copy with the second device but Ron Martine could clearly be heard speaking to someone in a one sided conversation—the longer he talked the tighter Ranger's grip on the small black device grew until Lester pried it from his fingers afraid his enraged cousin would crush the device listening to the man's voice so callously discussing where the most believable location on their vacation would be to make the whole thing look real.

_It had to look like a drug cartel_—a pause then—_Yes, something that could be blamed on her father's connections_. Then another short pause and Ron said he'd _acquired the second life insurance policy with no problem, but they would only give him two million despite Julie's child support payments equaling close to 700,000 a year_—another pause longer this time. N_o the double policy wouldn't be a problem,_ he answered after a pause; _he'd just claim he hadn't canceled the first policy before their vacation, a simple oversight on his part when he got the better rate on the new one. No one would question that, and then after the trip to Mexico he'd hoped to use the policy to pay a ransom to get her back so of course he hadn't canceled it!_

But obviously, according to Ron _they should let the single policy amount go higher,_ _if they had he wouldn't need to send a second Ransom to her asshole father!_ He assured the person on the line that _Rachel didn't know, not all of it, she thought they were just after the ransom because he'd told her the retirement funds with his company had been badly handled—no the money was fine he'd just moved it overseas._ Then Ron added that after the whole Scrog incident it had taken some convincing but _the stupid bitch had finally realized just how dangerous dealing with Julie's asshole father could be_—another pause and then Ron laughed and said_, it didn't matter because he was going to leave Rachel and take custody of Olivia the second this went through—no he'd worked it out perfectly the exchange_ _would happen when she was supposed to be watching the girls, so she'd easily be made out to be the incompetent one, she was practically drinking herself into rehab these days and he'd been slipping her Julie's medications for weeks so he could claim she was abusing prescription drugs as well and with any luck Manoso himself would take care of her after his daughter ended up dead. _

Julie's calm voice coming back after the recording was the only thing that stopped Ranger from putting both his fist and his boot through the walls.

"Obviously I had to get away. The trip was scheduled for the weekend after Steph and I decided to leave—I found out about it during this conversation myself, before this I'd known there was a plan but not that Ron was actually putting it in motion. The second life insurance policy and the plane tickets for Cozumel I made copies of the same night convinced me he was actually going through with it. I managed to make copies of the travel documents, and both life insurance policies taken out in my name by Ron Martine—my mother signed for the first one, but I don't know if she knew about the second one. Since it sounds like Ron was planning to leave her and take the money after my death I doubt he bothered to say anything.

I can't check the balance on my college fund or IRA without parental permission, but I'm quite certain those accounts have been emptied as well. After this message is a recording of several of my sessions with the therapist Gregory Nikolas, Ron alleged I'm suffering from PTSD and that I needed drugs to remain calm—as you'll hear in the session all I've been doing with Dr. Nikolas for the last four months is playing card games—war and go fish aren't exactly standard treatment for mental disorders. We don't even talk that much, we certainly don't talk about that asshole Scrog. That's done with, it's over, and it doesn't bother me that I shot him.

I'm hoping you can get these into the right hands, coming from you it will probably get attention a hell of a lot faster than if I tried to mail it to some general FBI drop box—it could take them years to find it. I'm hoping with this information maybe the FBI will focus their investigation on Ron—Stephanie said because Ron was only planning to kidnap me and didn't actually do it that it will be much harder to prove, and then there's the fact that she's wanted by the FBI and local police for actually kidnapping me...

We have a plan to work that out too, but I can't say anything about it because in the event this tape falls into the wrong hands it would ruin everything."

She paused for a moment drawing in a tight breath, "I'm sorry about this next part. I wish there was another way, but there isn't. I hope you can forgive us. You need to go back to Trenton the minute you get this stuff. I'll see you soon. I love you Daddy."

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**TBC...Uh oh...what's Jules the mastermind planner and Steph got coming up next?!**


	16. Chapter 16

**Disclaimer: ** Not mine!

**Notes: ** Huge thanks to all the readers and reviewers!

And Yes! My ceiling is almost fixed! Woohoo! So the house is less chaotic now! (TG) I can't wait 'til we move I tell ya, and not just cause this house has it's share of problems (hello collapsing ceiling? yikes!)

I actually get my own office in the new house! (yay! *happy dance*) no more writing at the kitchen table while the toddler throws toys at my head! O_o And bonus the office has French doors I can close so I can shove my muse into a zen state with the silence! Oooommmm... xD

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**Edit: ** A reviewer asked if I could add Dates to these time jumps because they were getting confused, I was worried about that from the start of this craziness so I'm going to endeavor to go back and add dates to the POV jumps as best I can. I hope that helps, anyone that's confused.

It may help to know that in almost every POV jump almost ANYTHING that happens in **Ranger's POV** is in the **CURRENT time** (Day 137 and beyond since Steph ran,) and ANYTHING in **Stephanie's POV** is in the **PAST**-Following her flight with Julie, and following them until you catch up with Ranger**'**s timeline.

There are still over 100 days still separating our twosome at this point in the story-but she's going to catch up don't you worry! : P

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**Chapter Sixteen**

Stephanie's POV

_December 4, 2013 - Day 22_

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I woke with someone's knee wedged against the bottom of my spine and the repetition of someone's fist pounding on the bedroom door hard enough to bounce and rattle the chair we'd wedged beneath the handle last night before going to sleep.

It took my sleep muddled brain a few moments even with the racket to remember where the hell I was and who's knee was in my back. After a few blinks and a moment's disorientation it all came rushing back—Anton's plan, the strip club, the explosion that killed his jeep, and the truth. Anton knew Ranger and insisted we we're in danger once again.

Julie had slept in my room last night since Anton had insisted on staying over after the failed op at the club. He'd slept on the couch and not in Julie's room even after she told him she'd be sleeping with me with a glare that seemed to suggest this was not just because she didn't want to be separated from me but that she didn't trust him not to try the same thing if she wasn't around. I wasn't sure whether I should feel flattered that Julie wanted to keep me safe as much as I wanted to keep her safe—or insulted that she thought I wasn't capable of shooting Anton myself the next time he showed up in my room uninvited and unannounced. I'd slept with the 9mm under my pillow and my hand on it just in case.

I heaved myself up from the bed slipping the gun into the back waistband of my pajama pants when it appeared the pounding on the door wasn't going to stop. My eyes felt like they'd been stuffed with sand, it was too damn early to be awake after the late night. It took me two tries to get the chair angled out from under the door handle without it getting re-caught with the way the door was rebounding under Anton's repeated assault. I glanced over my shoulder at the bed and was shocked Julie was still sleeping—completely relaxed and dead to the world. I used to sleep like that too but lately I've had a lot more trouble tuning everything out. I wonder sometimes even after this is all over if I'll ever sleep that soundly again.

Finally getting the chair unhooked and shoving it back against the wall beside the door I threw the latch and flung the door open catching Anton by surprise his hand raised mid-knock his eyes going a bit wide.

"Madre de dios," he breathed and he took a step back dropping his arm. "Do you always look like this first thing in the morning?"

I scowled in response and raised one hand to pat the wild fro of too-short curls spazzed out to truly epic proportions by sleep in a tangle around my head and wondered where my hair-tie that was supposed to contain this mess went. I turned my back on him and returned to the bed ruffling sheets quietly so as not to wake Julie and slipping my hand under my pillow until I found the tiny rubber band. I snatched the elusive little soldier up and threaded my fingers through the wild mop of curls as I turned back to the doorway working them into a semi-contained state by the time I'd made it back through the bedroom door pulling it closed behind us again.

Anton was still staring at me looking a little un-nerved and I was starting to feel pissed off at him. "What?!" I snapped crossing my arms over my chest. He hadn't moved from just outside the doorway, and he hadn't entered the bedroom on his own despite the fact that I wasn't certain he could have—regardless of the chair. This didn't make me trust him anymore, but it was a point in his favor I suppose. "Was there a reason you woke me up?" I added when he made no move to talk.

"They got it all wrong." Anton finally said a slow grin forming on his lips that did nothing to lessen my irritation with him. "Everyone's scared of Manoso—they could collapse whole governments with one look at your hair."

I thought of all the times Ranger had seen my morning hair and had pretty much the same reaction. Natural curls could be a serious bitch, especially short ones. I scowled harder and glared at him. Ranger had called my hair scary on more than one occasion, but he'd always worn that little half smile when he'd done it and that had truthfully softened the blow. It was like Ranger was saying my out-of-control-hair was cute instead of terrifying, and that made me get warm-fuzzies instead of the mean-angries I was feeling right now.

_You don't insult a Jersey-Girl's hair before noon and expect to get away with it._

"Querida, It's not insult, it's fact. That hair is loco. I have a whole new respect for Manoso, he is a brave man. It's like waking up next to Bigfoot."

I snarled "Asshole," and stomped away from him toward the kitchen—it was either that shoot him and appealing as that was, I didn't think Julie could sleep through the sound of Anton getting knee-caped Jersey-style. Anton followed me into the kitchen at a safe distance and watched as I made myself a cup of coffee from the already brewed pot. I added cream and sugar and stirred it a few times waiting to calm down. "So what's the plan here? You moving in, or what?" I moved around the kitchen counter to sit at the narrow breakfast bar watching him sip his own coffee—black it looked like, just like Ranger's—maybe it was a macho-military thing?

Anton flipped a folder like the first one he'd given me onto the bar top and continued drinking his coffee without comment. I flipped open the first page and blinked at the photo inside. Not a particularly friendly looking guy. He looked like his nose had been broken a few times and not set right, he had squinty dark, mean-looking eyes and a scar on the left side of his face that ran from temple to jawline. I lifted his photo and found the second sheet stapled below it was a rap-sheet of sorts. I scanned the words and confirmed that Mr. scar face was not a nice man, he was also apparently Russian, and a hitman among other hobbies like arson, rape and fraud. I swallowed down the sick feeling in my stomach and flipped to the next page, another photo—and attached to that another rap sheet. I shifted through the pages and after roughly the tenth one I realized the entire thing was pretty much the same. "What's this?"

"This is the major players, the heavy hitters you need to know. They're the ones most likely to be hired by someone, to hunt you down."

I stared at the face on the first page and the thought of running into this guy on a street even in broad daylight made me feel a little sick. Anton's words started to really sink in. "This file's almost an inch think!" I complained. No way were that many people after us, that was insane!

"Manoso's a busy man," Anton explained.

I slid the file away from me and thunked my forehead against the bar top a few times. "I don't think I can do this." I said. _We were dead_. That was all there was to it.

Anton's warm hand settled on my neck, it was nowhere near as soothing as when Ranger did the same thing. "Not much choice, Querida,"

"Maybe I should just call Tank. Tell him what happened, he can hide Julie…"

"Perhaps," Anton said and his tone made me lift my head. "Maybe you call Tank, he's a good man—Loyal to Manoso; he will certainly protect the nina if he feels there is a need. He will probably protect you."

"Probably?" I said, my eyes narrowing.

"Yes Probably, but for how long? How long will you hide in his shadow Querida? I do not think you are too happy there. You do not like to be told what to do, you are like Manoso in that respect—a dangerous match with your cleverness."

I frowned up at him. _I think that was a complement…sorta_. "I'm not going to hide at Rangeman for the rest of my life," I agreed, because he was right about that, I might start out there even if we could avoid the FBI, but I couldn't deal with weeks or months on end of never leaving the building. Hell I'd stunned Hal once to go to my sister Val's baby shower, rational about my own safety I was not. And then there was the charges I was certain were already leveled against me—I'd be arrested the moment I set foot in the states.

Anton's lips quirked up and I wondered if I'd said some part of my private thoughts out loud but he didn't ask he simply dropped his hand from my neck to the countertop and told me "You want to live your life again, as you see fit? Then you must change the game, Querida." I stared at him not sure what the hell that meant and he continued, "You are a liability to Manoso, A loose cannon to his men, a weakness to his enemies. You have shocked everyone with your little flight plan—They are scrambling to catch up. They are angry now certainly—but there is also respect."

"Respect?"

"Si, you have one-upped them all, beat them at their own game. And they are very good at this game Querida,"

"The best," I said.

Anton shrugged, "Perhaps, but you're running does not tell Manoso's enemies that you are strong—they see opportunity to strike, weakness in Manoso's home."

I sighed. "Yeah I get that, you covered it before." Hearing it again, over and over certainly didn't make it any easier to hear, and it didn't make me feel any better.

"If you strike back now, you make them bleed. Manoso is gone, there are no men to hide behind it is only you. You hit them now and you show them you are Manoso's woman for a reason. You prove you are an asset not a liability, that you are not someone to fuck with."

I shook my head. "That sounds like starting a war, and I don't think I could do that…" I certainly didn't have any of Ranger's skills to pull anything like that off, hell most days I kept myself alive by the grace of God, and that was against random gangsters and hooligans.

"Then you will end up dead." Anton said in a flat voice.

"Maybe not this time—maybe not next week, maybe you even make it out of this whole kidnapping mess and back to the states, back to Manoso's side—how long do you think it will be before Manoso is gone again, Do you think they will hesitate to strike? You will have to be very lucky every time they move against you, where-as there are many, many of them." His eyes flicked to the thick file and he tapped the top photo with his fingertip while my stomach turned, "And they will only have to get lucky only once."

I swallowed and wondered if my coffee might come back up, my stomach wasn't feeling all that trustworthy right now.

"You make a statement to the right people, and they all take note." Anton continued, "You no longer hide in Manoso's shadow—you make your own shadow, no one touches your Babe Girl, no one even thinks about it. There are no more messes like Scrog."

My head jerked up and my heart started pounding in my chest. "What the Hell does this have to do with Scrog?" I snapped. He wasn't in that file, he wasn't a hitman, he wasn't anybody—he was just nuts, having Edward Scrog fixate on Ranger had just been coincidence…

"Really Querida?" Anton gave me a look that clearly questioned my intelligence. "A low-rent security guard who just decides to become someone else? Not just model his life after him like a hero, or role-model but he changes his name, marries and murders, kidnaps and kills all in a matter of months with no previous history?"

"People kill each other all the time," I gasped my sense of alarm growing.

"This is true—but how did he know of Julie? How did he know of you?"

"He followed Ranger—"

"Manoso is very careful in regards to his daughter, better men then Scrog have tried and failed to destroy the illusion he represents, to find his flaws and take apart the man." He paused staring at me for a long moment, "Scrog was a wild card in someone's deck—a chess move with no risk involved for those who set the cards in motion. He was delusional yes, but what made him that way? Who?"

"He was just crazy, he met Ranger—You've seen him…" I trailed off unable to express Ranger's magnetic draw in words that would do it justice. Hell I spent a lot of time wanting to be Batman and I was a girl.

"And now, here is your chance." Anton said his face completely serious. "Become something they fear to protect someone you love, two someone's I think."

I frowned, shaking my head again, it was a nice idea but it was never going to work because I was me, not Batman—Me. I couldn't run eight miles a day or handle guns without inward—and sometimes outwardly, cringing. I blew up cars and wrestled people in garbage… "I don't think…"

"Don't think. Do it. If you do not even try you are as good as dead, and your Babe girl may not fare much better, even if she goes back to Manoso eventually he will have to go, for days or weeks or months, it could be a year and his enemies will start to think, they will question whether they can attack while the nest is empty while the child is alone, weak. She must get stronger too."

I stared at the photo on the bar top and thought about Scrog and grimaced. Julie shot Scrog not me. In many ways Julie was already stronger than me. Anton said nothing for a while and I mulled it over, I didn't have many options. Again I was faced with a choice, I could protect Julie by trying to become what she needed me to be—I'd have to become Wonder Woman, not just put on the cape and boots, but actually carry the gun, and okay maybe Wonder Woman never had a gun so it was a bad analogy but the point was the same.

_Could I do it?_ I'd already put my life on the line, I knew that. I wasn't just risking serious jail time by running away with Julie, I was risking my life—the FBI or police could just as easily shoot me as arrest me if things went wrong. Finding out there was a long list of people ready to simply shoot me outright shouldn't make my decision any harder to make. I wanted to live, I knew that.

I know most of the time when I was faced with a stalker or looming danger I tried my best to ignore it and pretend nothing was going on—but when push came to shove and someone attacked me or came at me with a knife or a gun I fought back, and I fought hard, I gave it everything I had_.__I wanted to live._ So why shouldn't I give it everything I had now? The worst that could happen if I failed was I'd be dead, and considering if I did nothing I'd also end up dead—and probably a lot faster all things considered, there wasn't much choice.

Anton was still watching me when I looked up, we studied each other for a quiet moment. He looked a lot like Ranger and Lester, they could almost be related. All three men had the same dark mocha skin and Latin good looks, but Anton was leaner then both of them, had shorter hair then Santos with a light curl to it, and lighter eyes then Ranger.

"Why are you doing this? Really, This is a Hell of a lot more than a simple favor, I'm not stupid. What really went down between you and Ranger?"

Anton watched me for a silent moment sipping his coffee, mine was almost cold and long since forgotten. His jaw tightened for a moment and then he gave a little sigh—almost inaudible and said "We tried to kill each other,"

I swallowed wondering if I should reach for my gun.

Anton's grin widened slightly "Don't reach for it Querida unless you mean it—the nina is the only one who gets away with that. I told you the truth before, there was a misunderstanding—"

"Sounds like a Hell of a communication problem."

Anton inclined his head, still grinning even though I'd interrupted him; Ranger never took my interruptions that well. "To be fair—he started it. I was lucky to end it and still be alive. But Manoso has a long memory and he does not easily forget. We move in the same circles and they are not so big that I can risk not running into him again. I'm between jobs and been informed Manoso and his men can make my next contract my last—or at least make it very uncomfortable. So I will give him something he wants more."

"Kidnapping us isn't going to work." I warned.

"No, it would only guarantee the last thing I see at the end of my short violent life is Manoso's knife opening my throat, after he has already beaten me within an inch of my life."

"So your solution is to turn me into a killer?"

"No, My solution is to give Manoso what he has always wanted."

"Ranger wants me to be Batman?" I frowned trying to wrap my head around the implausibility of that thought. Then I snorted, _yeah right._

"Manoso wants you to be safe, he wants you to be his equal—in many ways he must believe you already are—or in the very least you are capable or he would not still offer everything he does to you. The money he spends for your protection and the lengths he has gone personally to see to it, these are no small things Querida."

"Ranger doesn't do relationships,"

"Actions speak louder than words Querida, I see no other woman in his bed, in his cars, in his life…"

I stared down at the bar top and tried not to think too hard about that, if I did I'd probably have heart palpitations, being with Ranger—_Really _being with him…it was like the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. The fairy tale ending…it wasn't real. It couldn't be. Ranger always shot that idea down, had I missed something, had I been wrong?

"But no," Anton continued drawing my attention again, "I will not make you Batman, as you call him. To walk beside Manoso you must become a better version of yourself—you need to be scarier to his enemies then even the man himself."

Now I almost laughed. "No one's scarier than Batman," I didn't even have to think about the equal parts hot flash and heart attack the thought of being equal to Ranger and with him gave me because the rest of that statement was that ridiculous.

"Nothing more terrifying to a hunter Querida then a Mama Bear when her cub is threatened. When we are through you will walk down any street you wish and never have to fear something is moving in the shadows—because the shadows will move to stay away from you."

Julie cleared her throat from the open doorway to the bedroom and we both turned to look at her and she smiled.

"I'm in." She said. "When do we begin?"

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**TBC...**

_**Oh of course Julie's down with this plan right? She's already mini-batman! ; P**_


	17. Chapter 17

**Disclaimer:** Not my stuff yo!

**Notes: **_I added dates to previous chapters and will add them to future chapters to help keep readers straight! (hopefully!) After the next few chapters though your going to end up with Stephanie's POV for a while so it should be less confusing, hang in there for a bit! ((Shanti I hope this helps!))  : P_

**Huge thanks to: **_the newest daughter, erdi99, Anonymous, Stephannie1014, Selene Aduial, Barb4psu, trhodes9, jackattack01, shanti, AParker13, Quilter Girl, Carol145, MnGrammaX3, RhoJ, Fanfictionstalker, shellbell78, bgrgrmpy, guest, Meyzen, Angie, Guest, Snraines, Sliver of Melody, Four Reasons, DebK, Angela Mueller, Lulubelle09, Guest, snazzieshazzie, saphireangel09, More Please, carrotmusic, Guest, Guest, musereflective, MargaritaS, Cara245, Eileenapr, Marsha, BookAddictinFla, .50999, babesrus2, Gurest, First Generation Scot, Liz1969, sbabe, Sue, KLpuppies21, Great stuff, jbspencer06, mjsmama, Gurest, Carb0408, Rangerfanatic, Guest, daxandpat!_

* * *

**Chapter Seventeen**

Ranger's POV

_April 1, 2014 – Day 140 _

* * *

They ended up staying overnight in one of the local hotel's near the airport in San Juan after searching the rest of the apartment and confirming what they'd already suspected—Stephanie and Julie had left the internal trackers that Hector had placed in the linings of the passports inside the safe of their burnt out apartment.

Ranger sighed in frustration and then felt his lips quirk up. He was sighing, if his Babe could see him now she'd probably have a heart attack. Another few days of this kind of stress and he'd probably crack for real and end up rolling his eyes too. Tank would probably demand he sit for a full psych eval the first time he got witnessed doing an eye roll in front of his men.

Thoughts of that possibility had Ranger amused, toying briefly with the idea of doing it in the middle of the next briefing just to watch the big guy's reaction, he could bring in a big paper bag of something contraband, like Doughnuts or chili cheese fries and not say a word, just eat them—if he mentioned it to Hector he was certain they could tape the whole thing. That might be almost as much fun as the video that still occasionally circulated of his Babe stun gunning Hal with his own weapon in the stair well.

Turning towards more serious matter's he made quick work of re-folding the few clothing items he'd worn the previous day already re-dressed in the standard clean Rangeman black and dressed with his personal standard of two gun's and a knife—even for their trip back stateside one could never be too careful.

The trilling of his phone captured his attention and Ranger snagged the flat rectangle off the bedspread answering it with a quick "Talk," after a glance at the read-out told him who it was.

"Reports from Rangeman this morning, the names that Hector sent those passports in—we got hits on them."

"Which ones?"

"All of them," Lester said.

Ranger paused zipping the bag shut. "Explain."

"Turns out at 5:50am this morning the first two names checked into a flight in San Juan, on a flight for Venezuela. The second the alert went up on the name Vince gave Hector a call, Hector had just called me when Vince called back—couldn't have been five minutes later to say the other two passport names kicked up in the system too—6:15am flights from San Juan to Mexico and then according to the computer ticket a non-stop to Brazil. Trenton and Miami are both standing by wanting to know who to deploy."

Ranger said nothing for a moment.

"You still there Boss?"

"Yeah, ignore both."

"…Boss?"

"Julie said go home. I need a meeting set up with the FBI in the DC office. Have someone meet us at the airport with all the information we gathered on Ron and Dr. Nikolas' financials, the life insurance and Julie's empty accounts. We need to find out why this information wasn't discovered—Have Silvo pull up Agent Fuller's financials and check for any payments, off shore accounts or new cash flows that don't match up. He doesn't strike me as an incompetent individual, despite his agency—"

Lester snorted.

"If he checks out have the meeting set up with him immediately. I suspect someone on his team isn't on the level."

"You thinking someone's lining their pockets on this one besides the good doc? My money's on that Asshole Luent."

Ranger didn't say anything, but his gut agreed.

"Tank wants to know…we stopping over in Miami or going straight through?" Lester asked, the unspoken question hanging in the air between them.

"Make it Non-Stop," Ranger said after only a brief hesitation.

Lester blew out a deep breath, "Okay, that's good I was worried we were taking a slight detour this morning—not that I object or anything it's just Hector's been going over all the information since we got in last night and playing with that switchblade the entire time and while I trust you not to leave anything behind something tells me Hector might enjoy making a big mess."

They hung up and Ranger finished packing his things and had his bag loaded in the Jeep and ready to go at the same time Hector and Lester appeared also ready to head straight to the airport so they could make their flight home.

* * *

**Stephanie's POV**

* * *

_April 1, 2014—Day 140_

(Present Day)

"So?" I leaned over the back of Julie's chair staring at the screen.

"They took off at 8:13am, non-stop to Washington DC." Her finger's clicked a few more keys and she pulled up a second webpage, "Looks like they're scheduled to land at 12:20, and I'd assume Tank or someone else is meeting them at the airport and they're headed straight to the Hoover building to meet with Agent Fuller."

I chewed my bottom lip for a moment.

Julie craned her head back to look at me still leaning over her, her hair was long enough now that she could pull it into a short pony tail behind her head. The silky strands tickled the inside of my wrist where they brushed against my skin. "Are we going through with this? There's no other way?"

I blew out a breath and nodded. "Yup, need to get you safely back to Ranger. And I need the freedom to move."

"I could still go with you." Julie frowned.

"Not for this next bit Babe Girl." I wrapped my arms around her shoulders in a brief hug. "Everything's going to work itself out."

"I know," Julie said smiling at me. "I just have to make it believable."

I remembered her acting with Scrog and felt my lips twitch. "I think you'll do just fine, just try not to give your Dad or poor Tank a heart attack alright?"

Julie's chin dropped and she started booking a new flight on the screen. "This is going to suck," she said. "I already feel guilty and it hasn't even happened yet."

I knew what she meant—I'd been plagued by a damn near constant knot in my stomach since we came up with the plan a week ago—and I got the easy part. "No time for guilt," I said, "we've got less than twelve hours to get this perfect—no mistakes."

Julie nodded in agreement, the ends of her pony tail brushing my forearm. "No mistakes." She said.

* * *

**Ranger's POV**

* * *

Washington DC, Hoover Building

_April 1, 2014—Day 140_

"Mr. Manoso?" The secretaries' voice fluttered as she said his name. "Um, he's ready for you, you can uh, go on in."

"Thank you," He stood and quickly crossed the threadbare carpet to Agent Fuller's door and went straight in ignoring the way the woman behind the secretary desk just outside sighed and flushed watching him walk by.

"Mr. Manoso," Agent Fuller stood from behind his desk, when the man reached for his hand in formal greeting Ranger cut all formalities by putting the file he'd been carrying into it.

Agent Fuller took the folder, his eyes dropping to it. "What's this?"

"Information related to my Daughter's disappearance. I want to know why it was missed by your office."

Agent Fuller didn't say anything for a few minutes. Sitting back at his desk and scanning through the information before him while Ranger took one of the two available seats across from him and waited silently.

After the tenth page Agent Fuller's eyes rose to his. "This will have to be confirmed, but I'm concerned. Agent Luent was responsible for following the family's side of the investigation; he cleared the Martine's of any financial problems or suspicious social activities. I've got paperwork submitted from his desk to prove it." Agent Fuller grabbed a file out of his top desk drawer and flipped open beside the one Ranger had supplied, he sifted through the sheets and pulled out a print out of financial information and his expression darkened. "I have Agent Luent's report right here, and it shows none of the cash transactions you're talking about—We didn't look at the Doctor, the agency spoke to him only to confirm that he had diagnosed your daughter with PTSD and to find out is she was current on her medications at the time of her kidnapping."

"Agent Luent was the agency liaison who spoke with Dr. Nikolas." It wasn't a question but Fuller nodded anyway and looked even more unhappy.

"I want to say there's been some mistake, but I won't insult your intelligence Mr. Manoso—this isn't the time for bureaucratic bullshit. This is Fucking embarrassing enough. Luent's been a good agent for the four years I've had him in my department—not great, he's never had the instinct it takes to make the big cases. I knew he was hungry for advancement, shit what agent isn't beyond the mundane career paper-pusher. He's a blow hard and likes to hear himself talk but this…" he paused for a moment rubbing tiredly at his closed eyes with one hand. "Christ, what a mess. It's no excuse for missing this but I've got fifteen open cases on my desk—used to be I had ten max—and that was with a fully dedicated team for the leg work. Fucking budget cuts are killing us. I pulled up your file before you came back, what was available to me anyways and I was honestly sitting here this morning wondering how the Hell I was going to survive calling you to say the investigation had completely stalled—A hundred and forty days and nothing! I've got people breathing down my neck to stop wasting funds and label this case a dead end. If it wasn't for your connections in the government I hate to say it but Julie's case would have been shelved in the 'hopeless' pile after day thirty."

"I'll have IA take a look at this, those pitbulls get a serious hard-on chasing dirty laundry down, if I didn't know any better I'd swear they got bonuses for every crooked bastard they nailed to the wall in front of the review board. I can pretty much guarantee they're going to want to investigate all this information with one of their agents—and that could take a few days." He frowned his eyes flicking up for a moment. "Should, I worry about Luent disappearing before then?"

"I'll let your people handle it, but I want the charges for Second degree Grand Larceny dropped from the warrants, and I want the kidnapping charges re-visited."

"Obviously in light of this new evidence that's a possibility—but it's not up to my office, I'll see what I can do. The lady in charge of that stuff is a pretty big stickler for the laws—she's a very black and white kind of person, but I think even she's got to agree there's more going on here than we originally thought—course if you Ms. Plum were to turn herself in willingly in light of this new evidence it might go a long way towards easing the charges." Fuller looked at him.

"I'm not in contact with Ms. Plum, or my daughter."

"Of course not," Agent Fuller said not looking convinced.

"I haven't received word from either of them since the original video message I turned over to Agent Luent; you did receive that message?"

"We got it." Fuller said. "Luent brought in to my office all fired up, ranting about wanting to drag you in here in cuffs for obstructing the investigation—I convinced him the idea was nuts and he eventually let it go. At the time I thought he was just trying to go balls-out. Prove to the guys upstairs he had what it takes to chase the big leads down, now I'm thinking he was more worried about covering his own ass, or his pay-off."

Fuller paused eyeing the file again. "So if anyone asks what were you doing in Puerto Rico?"

"Following a lead on a high bond FTA for Rangeman, we got the call and had to check it out ASAP—we just happened to stop in the café for lunch while we were combing the streets with the guy's picture after the lead didn't pan out and we saw a photo on the wall."

Fuller's lips formed a thin line. "I don't suppose I have to tell you to make sure you have paperwork ready to go to back that claim up."

"I'll have it faxed to your office,"

"Good. The Brass is already going to be shitting themselves over Luent with how high profile this case has become—I don't need anyone making things more complex wondering if you've been in on this from day one."

"I was overseas."

"Your company wasn't, regardless –give me a day or two to see what I can get done." Fuller cursed flipping both folders closed and stacking them up on his ink blotter. "I tell you I get more tired of the red-tape-bullshit all the time, I miss the good old days where you just got shit done."

"Seal?" Ranger asked.

"For eight years," Fuller said wistfully. "Hooraa. I'd ask if you had any jobs open on your end but I doubt that would look good even after this mess is done."

"I could give a shit as soon as my daughter is home and this warrant problem is resolved. I can always use good men—if you're interested you should give my HR department a call."

Fuller looked like he was seriously considering it, his eyes even slid across his desktop to the phone. "Christ. She's safe right? At least I can take that off my conscious," he frowned probably thinking of the fourteen other cases still open on his desk alone.

Ranger nodded slowly and stood up.

"It's going to take a few days to get the wire taps in place and the full support of IA on board with this, they've got their budget cuts too apparently. In the  
meantime I'd like to extend an un-official offer from my office to Rangeman to privately look into this matter, since I'm stretched so thin here and everything. In case anyone asks, you have permission to be involved. Case is about to go officially 'cold file' without new evidence anyway, I've held it as long as I can. I seriously doubt anyone but Luent would say anything about it."

"I'll let you know _personally_ if we find anything." Ranger said and then he left.

* * *

**TBC...**

**So they know Luent's dirty, now what? And what's going down in the next 12 hours that has both Steph and Jules so freaked out?!**


	18. Chapter 18

**Disclaimer:**_ Still not mine they belong to Janet, though I often wonder if we could work out a partial custody deal for Ranger...hmm._

**_Super short Chapter, but I thought you might want it... ; )_**

* * *

**Chapter Eighteen**

* * *

**Stephanie's POV**

Newark NJ Airport

_April 1, 2014—(Day 140)_

* * *

We walked down the airport's hallway from the airplane's open doorway to the terminal gateway hand in hand. Julie's backpack slung over one shoulder her other hand gripped to the shoulder strap keeping it in place. We walked right past the flight crew without notice with polite nods just like everyone else in answer to their plastic smiles and repetitive chorus of "Welcome to Newark. _Hope_ you had a nice flight."

I snorted when we passed the last one. And Julie nodded slowly, "_Welcome_ to _Newark_," she said and I felt my lips twitch, it _was_ ironic. It was like saying 'Welcome to the Hell, hope you don't find it too hot.'

"Come on, Baggage claim." I said and Julie followed my lead still holding my hand. The blonde wig on my head was itchy as hell, and had the back of my head sweating since we boarded our flight several hours before, but it would be off soon and then we had bigger things to worry about even if this all went according to plan.

Months of training and here we were, right back where I started almost 141 days ago. I glanced at my watch.

"Time?" Julie said not looking at me.

"9:43 pm, Hal and Les should be on deck." Ranger should be in his office still, catching up on paperwork from his San Juan trip.

"Assuming the schedule hasn't changed?" Julie said.

I nodded and blew out a breath as we loaded ourselves onto the escalator. "Assuming the schedule hasn't changed." I said.

Julie was practically bouncing next to me on the step. Covert Ops, and in-depth-planning made her giddy as Boston crème doughnuts made me—so usually we compromised: we baked and licked the spoons while we made elaborate plans at the same time. If this all blew apart in our faces I guess I could pass this latest bought of insanity off on a sugar high.

We passed a CINNABON store and Julie cut her eyes to me, her grin growing wider until her eyes even in the shadow of Ranger's Navy Seal hat they twinkled with the temptation. It wasn't exactly the Tasty Pastry but what the Hell? They hadn't had either where we'd been.

We bought a box of six and sat on one of the uncomfortable wire mesh benches beside baggage claim waiting for the belt to start and getting our fingers sticky with crème cheese frosting. Julie was giggling about the frosting dripping down her chin but even as she wiped it away with a napkin her eyes were shifting under the brim of her hat keeping a subtle eye on the one cop and two airport security guards who passed through the baggage claim area.

Nobody looked at us once, let alone twice.

"My Dad was here just hours ago," Julie said suddenly.

"Not in baggage claim."

"No, private plane." She agreed and grabbed another roll.

"You're going to make yourself sick," I cautioned.

"Time?" Julie said considering the sticky roll oozing sugary goodness down her wrist.

"9:51pm."

Julie's lips quirked down for a split second in a serious grimace. I knew the feeling. I was fighting my churning stomach as well. "You going to do it, better make it now," She said setting the roll down and instead of licking the icing off her fingers like I would have she wiped the gooey mess with a napkin and tossed it crumpled up in a tight wad into the top of the box lid.

I sucked in a tight breath, part of me wanted to chicken out—a huge part of me. But we'd come this far and I'd already made the decision months ago to see this through, all the way to the end. No matter what that end might be.

I stuck my hand out to Julie and she fished inside her backpack for the cellphone laying it in my open hand. "I'll be at the payphone for three minutes," she said and she set the bag down on the bench seat next to me in deference to the airports no 'unattended bags' rule and grabbed the cardboard container so she could pitch it into the trash can on her way.

I stared at the phone in my hand taking deep breathes. If I didn't say something now, I might never get the chance. I hadn't heard his voice other then in my dreams in months. Maybe I should have called the second we got Hector's email in my account saying he was home-but every time I'd picked up the phone I'd chickened out. It as now or quite possibly never, there were a lot of things that could go wrong in the next hour or two.

My fingers were trembling so hard I had to hit the backspace twice to punch in the right number. I glanced up before hitting send to see Julie standing at the single payphone her fingers posed to dial watching me. I nodded my chin and she nodded back and started to dial as I hit 'send'. I listened to the ringing start in my ear and tried to remind myself not to throw up.

Les answered on the second ring. "Rangeman control room,"

"You have ten seconds to put Manoso on the phone," I said.

And by some worldly miracle my voice didn't shake.

"Holy Shit! _BOMBSHELL?!_"

"Nine," I said. "Eight. . ."

Lester and someone else started yelling for Ranger and there was a crash that sounded like someone in the room had flipped over a chair. I was guessing I'd been put on speaker phone. My stomach twisted at the sound of boots and shouts in the hallway and I swallowed clenching my other hand into a fist to control my nerves.

"Seven. . . Six. . . Five. . . Four. . ."

_Come on Ranger,_ I hadn't realized 'til this moment how much I _really_ needed to hear his voice before this next part…if I made it to _One _before he answered I'd have to hang up; Julie already had.

The clock was ticking.

"Three. . ." I warned. _Come on Batman, Where the Hell are you?_

"_Babe_,"

* * *

_**TBC...**_

_**Was that the Mother of all cliffhangers or what?!**_


	19. Chapter 19

**Disclaimer: ** Not mine!

_**Thanks to the overwhelming responses to this story! **_

_**You guys are awesome!**_

**Edited**_** 9/03** found some typos apologies! No beta on this story so mistakes are all mine!_

* * *

**Chapter Nineteen**

* * *

**Ranger's POV**

_Rangeman Trenton—9:54 pm_

* * *

"RANGER!"

Ranger shoved up from his desk with both hands so fast at the over lapping shouts that his chair flew into the wall behind him with his momentum and promptly tipped over exploding against the floor sending wheels scattering in all directions with a crash that echoed down the hallway.

"RANGER, NOW!" Lester's booming voice trumpeted down the hallway.

_The Fuck?!_ Ranger snarled already moving. _Somebody, _or _something _had _better _be on fire for Les to bellow down the hallway at _him_. Hell the last time Les had dared bark something in that tone they'd been under heavy enemy fire in Kabul; and he _seriously _doubted his cousin had found rocket launchers pointed at them in his own damn hallway.

The door to his office was open, and while it was late most of the Trenton crew was still on deck—not only was there the massive paperwork to complete on his desk from even his short absence; more than a handful of his men, in total honestly most of his staff, were still hanging around many of them off the clock. Not that he wouldn't pay them anyway, he had Hector keeping track for him. It was only fair seeing as they were volunteering their precious off-time tracking the electronic signatures of both his Babe and Julie's passports even though they knew they'd most likely be dead ends. They had to know.

He _had_ ordered some of his men to sifting through available airport security videos and check-in lists. Baggage claim reports had to be searched and quite a few were hand checking and double checking the list of every passenger leaving San Juan the week before they'd arrived through the current flights, and requesting any video surveillance still available in the week after the fire searching for aliases. If they could match a face to a name on a new passport they'd have something new to follow—but it was tedious, mind-numbing work; and very, very slow.

"It's Bomber!" Hal's frantic declaration had him leaping into a dead sprinting down the aisle, his employees immediately jerking back into cubicles or open doorways Manny even attempted to smash himself flat to a section of wall to get the hell out of his way!

_The Fuck didn't they say that first?!_

Ranger damn near collided with Lester's body running full-tilt from the hallway through the Control Room doorway his eyes instantly flying over the bank of monitors in the pressing silence of the room searching for whatever sign had set them off and finding nothing—and then he heard her voice and his heart jumped into his throat in just that one simple sound as he realized she was on speaker phone.

"Five,"

Cal, Tank and Bobby were right on his heel's entering the Control Room, drawn by the shouting that indicated a crisis even before the name Hal hollered had every ass on the floor leaping out of their chairs and moving towards the door as well. Like moths to a flame.

"Four . . . Three. . ."

_Why didn't she call his office directly? __Or his Cellphone? __Had she forgotten the number somehow? __Did she not want to talk to him? _The doubt made him feel sick, he swallowed it down trying for a steady voice after a calming breath.

"_Babe_,"

She paused for a moment. "Tick, Tock Ranger. Cutting it kinda close." _God her voice, it was so good to hear her voice…_

"Why the countdown Babe, planning to blow something up?"

She snorted and he could practically see the eye roll that went with it in his mind. "Not just yet." She returned cryptically, "It was your deadline to answer the phone."

It took him a beat to respond to that. "_You_ giving _me _Deadlines Babe? What happens if I don't make it in time?"

"You'd _disappoint_ me. You don't want to _disappoint me,_ do you _Carlos?_" Ranger's groin tightened instantly. His eyes widen almost imperceptibly in surprise. Most men would miss such a subtle reaction, it wasn't much, but on Ranger it was the equivalent of another man's jaw hitting the floor.

Gone for _four fucking months_ and now she's _teasing_ him and suddenly using _his name_?! He could count on both hands the number of times his Babe had been brave enough to tease him outright. But she'd never, _ever_ used his name. The effect was powerful…What the hell was going on, not a word in weeks and now here she was pulling the tiger's tail and practically purring while doing it. _Was she trying to kill him?_ _Dios!_

_"__Playing with fire, babe." _

Everyone was listening now, he was positive every Rangeman left in the building had crowded into the hallway beside the Control Room. He made a signal to Hector as the smaller man pushed into the room threading his way between the bodies crowded around to start tracing the call. Hector nodded in response.

"Don't bother tracing this; it's a waste of resources, Hector has better things to do."

He wondered for a brief moment if she could see them, but discounted that a moment later as impossible. And what the Hell could be more important than tracking his Babe and his daughter? If she thought he wasn't going to at least attempt it she was out of her mind! "Need to find you Babe, things to _discuss_,"

"I'll bet," she breathed into the phone sounding a little nervous for the first time since the call started, "I'll tell you where we are. I'll even tell you where we're going, how's that sound?"

"What are you doing, Babe?" Ranger asked his voice tighter then he'd like. _Why was she calling? __Not that he hadn't longed to hear her voice in the long months he'd been abroad on assignment—the need had only grown worse the second he'd come home and realized she was gone. __But he'd just gotten the information to Fuller this afternoon. __Did she know that? __Her name wasn't cleared yet—not by a long shot. __Was she coming home?__Was she just trying to torture him by calling to tease him from some distant beach?_

"Me? At the moment I'm sitting in baggage claim at the Newark Airport. What are _you _doing?" There was a playful lilt to her voice again that turned her words into a '_I'll show you mine if you show me yours_' tease and even after all the tension of the last few weeks and all the months apart it made his groin tighten to the point of painful_._

_Madre de Dios._ Ranger struggled to control his breathing, ignoring the eyes and ears in the room. He needed to keep it together and figure this shit out! She was hiding something in her bravado he was certain of it, he needed to focus and push away the distraction of need hearing her voice brought over him.

They were playing a chess game, he could feel her moves sliding into place—he didn't understand them though; the board didn't make sense, he couldn't see the endgame which drove him nuts. This wasn't just a friendly game between them; the dangers to her and Julie were very real if they were spotted in town by someone. Ranger scowled at the thought, his frustration rising; for the first time in their long history of having the upper hand in almost anything where she was concerned now she'd thrown him for such a damn loop he wasn't sure he was even on the same board! He bit back his frustration and closed his eyes for a single moment centering himself on his goal; get them both back to Rangeman, _Tonight_.

"What are you doing in Newark Babe? Someone's going to see." With one hand signal and a look he had two teams already in route to the damn airport before he'd even finished the sentence. He needed to keep her talking. Give his teams time to get at least partly there. He doubted he could keep her on the phone long enough for Zip and Zero or Ram and Manny to reach the airport baggage claim…

"Maybe." She said sounding unconcerned.

"You planning to turn yourself in Babe?" _He'd have her bailed out an up on seven in mere hours, and then by God he was going to take her right there against the wall the second they were through the door…_ Dios lo ayude! He'd missed her so bad… (God help him)

"Not at the moment," her voice broke into his thoughts distracting him.

There was a second voice in the background—Julie's he was certain of it, saying they had to go. Ranger's hands clenched to white knuckle fists at his sides. _They were both _right _there!_ _So close, he just had to get to them before the FBI or Police were alerted to their return._

_He'd deal with Fuller in the morning after they were safely at Rangeman; or maybe in a day…two at most...They'd figure the details out afterwards._

"Right now I'm considering the perks of Grand Theft Auto." Her purr filled the room and even Lester and Hal had trouble standing still listening to _that_ tone.

"Planning to really round out your rap sheet Babe?" He growled.

"Someone once told me I should _diversify _my portfolio," there was much more than a hint of teasing in her voice that time.

He couldn't help the grin that spread over his face remembering that conversation long ago. "Believe I told you that _wasn't_ the kinda diversifying you should get into Babe."

"Funny. All this time I thought you were talking about sex! You sneaky bastard."

_Fuck._ He had been. Even back then she'd driven him half-mad with want! Tank shifted in the doorway reminding him they had an audience; he needed to change the subject_, fast_.

"Is Julie with you?"

"What is it your weekend already?" she joked, "She's with me, you'll have her back tonight, _promise_."

It didn't escape his attention that she didn't say anything about being there too. "_Babe_, Just stay put and I'll be there to get you _both_ in thirty minutes."

She laughed, "You and I both know it takes _at least_ an hour to reach the airport—"

_Not the way he'd be driving_.

She snorted. "Now who's breaking the law?"

_Shit._ Did _he_ say that out loud? _Fuck. He really was losing it._ "I'll call you on my cellphone right now, I'll start driving."

"Pretty sure that's illegal too," she said.

"It's a gray area Babe,"

She snorted a laugh "Pretty sure it isn't! Tell you what; I'll meet you somewhere halfway. But you're going to have to hurry I'm on a tight schedule."

"Hot date?" He tried to tease but he couldn't completely keep the possessive growl out of his voice.

"Something like that…" she mused.

"Where am I going Babe?"

"Simple. Follow the helicopters, they should be here any minute…"

"Babe," _What the Hell happened to not wanting to get caught?!_

"Gotta run. Things to do, people to see. _I love you Ranger_. I'm sorry, I have to do this."

Then she hung up while he was still trying to remember how to breathe.

"Bossman?" Tank's tentative voice from the doorway brought him back to himself, at least enough to return air to his lungs.

_Fuck_, she said it. She said I love you, _to him_...not Morelli…_Him._ The Hell was going on? She kidnapped Julie, fled the country for four months, eluded all his men—including staying two steps ahead of him. Now she was back for some unknown reason, the unknown variables in this scenario made his stomach contract in knots and his heart race tenfold. And now she was teasing him like she'd never been gone, and saying she loved him?

"Didn't Julie say the same thing?" Les said behind him.

"What?" The quiet reminder of similar words has him suddenly filled with overwhelming dread.

"In her message, in Puerto Rico; Julie said: I'm sorry about this next part, I hope you can forgive us. And then she said she's see you soon."

Julie had also said she loved him.

_Dios Babe! What have you both gotten yourselves into now?_

"Les with me, and Hector. Tank, Bobby and Hal, team up. Woody take monitors, somebody get on all the police channels; I wanna know what they know when they know it! The rest of you get back to work telling me where the Hell the are!" He was already striding toward the stairwell, not content to wait even thirty seconds for the elevator to arrive, Les and Hector barely a step behind.

"Let's Roll," Bobby said as the hit the stairs running for the ground floor.

* * *

**TBC...**


	20. Chapter 20

**Disclaimer: ****Not mine**

**Notes: **_For Steph's car go to youtube and search "Corvette ZR1 vs Audi R8" they compare both on TopGear BBC (the only top gear for this gear-head!) Great video gorgeous Audi and Jeremy cracks me the hell up, seriously must have watched it ten times laughing the whole way! __Hubby thought I'd gone mad… __: D_

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**Chapter Twenty**

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**Stephanie's POV**

"_Babe_,"

I had to pause for a moment to catch my breath; my heart was hammering away in my chest my stomach fluttering under my ribs with just one word. _God how I'd missed his voice…_ it made southern parts of me feel tingly and _very_ warm.

I licked my lips slowly trying to focus. I'd planned this conversation out in my head so many times…I couldn't get distracted or I'd get lost; Ranger had a complex way of holding two completely separate conversations in one.

There were the words, sure; that was the _obvious_ message—and a lot of times it was all people heard. But those people were missing _a lot_ because underneath that first layer was the _Tone, _and if you were lucky enough to be standing in front of him the eyes_, where _the _real _conversation was going on, what Ranger _wanted _to say, but didn't, or couldn't because there were cops or other problematic ears around_._

Ranger had the ability to take _one _word, like my personal favorite '_Babe_' and wrapped in his tone a symphony of words flowed from that one. He could transform those syllables into a warning, an order, a promise, a threat, a tease…

a _want_.

It was a skill I didn't think I'd ever pull off. "Tick, Tock Ranger. Cutting it kinda close." I said. Then I held my breath, closed my eyes and listened desperately for the sound of his voice again.

"Why the countdown Babe, planning to blow something up?" There was just a hint of teasing in his words. That was good; at least he wasn't snarling or threatening and demanding to know where we were.

I snorted thinking of the fire bombed apartment on Old Town, and the house in the Dominican Republic with Anton. I almost laughed at the memory of the bathtub full of homemade C4… "Not just yet." She returned cryptically humor laced through the words, "It was your deadline to answer the phone." _Let's see how playful he's feeling now_, I thought.

There was a short pause. "_You_ giving _me _Deadlines Babe? What happens if I don't make it in time?" His voice pitched lower with every word, _oh boy_! Sixty miles apart and Ranger still managed to endanger my panties with just his tone…he was that good, the best…Hell, he was the _Wizard._

I hummed in my throat thinking about _that_. "You'd _disappoint_ me. You don't want to _disappoint me,_ do you _Carlos?_" _Holy Shit!_

_Holy Crap on a Cracker_!

_What the Hell was wrong with me_?! I had to put my palm over the mouthpiece of the phone covering it so he couldn't hear my suddenly out of control breathing as I started freaking out. _Where the Hell had that come from?!_

_Carlos?!_

I bent forward on the bench and put my head between my knees squeezing my eyes shut trying not to hyperventilate. _I just called Ranger by his real name! __Ranger!__No one did that! __Ever!_

I'd _Never_ used his real name; not even that one night after the 'Deal' when he'd stayed the night…I'd been so close a couple of times, god so close, too many times…if I was honest with myself remembering that amazing night. His name had been right there, on the tip of my tongue…

But he hadn't asked me to, he'd always been _Ranger_. Somehow even then I knew if I I'd slipped up and called him that it would simply be _too much.__It would be like making love…and Fuck. __I couldn't handle that, not on top of the emotions already layered into every touch…every look, every press of that hot hungry mouth and every gentle reverent sweep of his talented hands…Godhelpme!_

I'd had a swollen and bruised bottom lip the next morning not just from Ranger's intoxicating kisses but because I'd had to bite it repeatedly to stop myself moaning his name as I climaxed_…__shit. Don't think about that, don't think about that…Fuck._

_I was sitting in an airport a craptastic wire bench leaving a very uncomfortable diamond patterned imprint on my ass cheeks and the memory of one freaking night almost two years ago was making me melt!_

_Jeeze, Get it together Stephanie!_

_ "__Playing with fire, babe." _Ranger growled.

_God. I hope I didn't say any of that out loud! __Oh good, the mouthpiece was still covered with my hand! I was safe! __Wait, did that mean he _liked _me using his name? _

_Shit Woman, don'tevengothere!_

_Focus Stephanie, Focus! __Finish the Call._ Julie was already starting her second one when I glanced up. "Don't bother tracing this; it's a waste of resources, Hector has better things to do."

"_Need_ to find you Babe, things to _discuss_,"

"I'll bet," I gasped, thinking about some of our previous 'discussions' in the alley beside the bond's office... _Breathe Steph, Breathe. __You can do this._ "I'll tell you where we are. I'll even tell you where we're going, how's that sound?"

_Negotiations, strike a deal. __Yes. __That would distract me…I mean him! Him. __It would distract him._

"What are you doing, Babe?" Ranger's voice was full of concern suddenly.

And _Crap_. Teasing-Ranger I could handle. I had experience with that, Hell I practically had a Degree in it. I wasn't sure I could handle _Serious_ or _Honest Ranger_…he scared the shit out of me even more then SWAT or COMBAT Ranger.

Maybe it was time for a little honesty myself. "Me? At the moment I'm sitting in baggage claim at the Newark Airport. What are _you _doing_?" __Shit. _One of these days I'm going to learn how to control my mouth!Maybe I should have had another cinnamon roll. It's been a long time after all, I don't think I've had enough sugar the last few months to deal with Ranger and keep my head on straight…Seems I've got a libido backlog now that we're in the same state.

"What are you doing in Newark Babe? Someone's going to see." And okay the tone was part concern, part warning—Ranger doesn't want me caught by the police or the FBI, that's nice at least!

"Maybe." I said. Not that it would matter consider Julie's 'anonymous tips' would have the FBI and Trenton Police headed our way in...Well, _now_ actually since she was hanging up and walking toward me.

"You planning to turn yourself in Babe?" He didn't sound happy about that sentence.

"Not at the moment," I said since there was no time to explain it.

Julie reached my side and stood still for a moment, waiting. Her eyes locked on the plate glass window facing the passenger pick up outside the baggage claim area. She grinned suddenly and nodded her head after a few seconds toward the road. "We gotta go."

I turned and saw the car glide to a stop in front of the previously agreed upon pole and felt my eyes go a bit wide.

_Holy Shit_!

I'd said flashy…but _Momma Mia!_ Talk about making an _entrance. _If my name on splashed all over the 10 O'clock news didn't guarantee every TV in the 'burg would be tuned in to watch in the next few minutes, this car clenched it. My mother's phone was going to simply explode…

I got off the bench and Julie grabbed her bag and we quickly exited through the glass sliding doors into the cool night air. Julie moved down the sidewalk following the curb, while I crossed around the backside of the car. The phone still pressed to my ear but my attention was now firmly on the wheels purring at the curb.

_Hot Damn!_

Now, I'm a car girl, I'm not going to lie. You wouldn't think I cared about them with all the POS car's I've had and lost over the last few years but it's just not true: I love a high end sports car, they're just way outside my price range! I'm totally guilty of flipping through those Hot Rod and Performance Car magazines at the book store and drooling on the spreads. I raised my hand to my face wondering if I needed to wipe drool off my chin. Porsche's always do it for me—and not just because in my experience they smell like Bvlgari, purr like a sleepy kitten doing 80 down the highway like it's nothing, and most importantly when I see one it usually contains _Ranger_…

I _love_ Porsches.

But right now the deep dark shiny blue Audi R8 V10 with gunmetal wheels and a dark as midnight window tint was giving my Porsche fantasies a run for their money…_Oh boy._

"Wow," Julie breathed as we moved closer, and I agreed.

I was practically panting and I hadn't even gotten to drive it yet. What was I doing before this? Oh right, I was talking to Ranger…and he was still waiting. _Time for more honesty._

"Right now I'm considering the perks of Grand Theft Auto." I licked my lips again.

The driver got out without a word and held the door for me with one hand his hat obstructing his eyes and nose from the view of the cameras, the fake beard stuck to his cheeks and chin obstructing the rest. I slipped into the leather seat and Julie jumped in beside me. The door shut with a muted click and the driver walked off at a brisk pace.

"Planning to really round out your rap sheet Babe?" Ranger growled in my ear his voice had gone all husky, between that and the car my panties went up in flames.

"Someone once told me I should _diversify _my portfolio," I reminded him stroking one fingertip over the leather steering wheel in front of me. Julie was making 'Let's go' motions with one hand and eyeing the doors of the airport nervously.

"Believe I told you that _wasn't_ the kinda diversifying you should get into Babe."

I bit back a full belly laugh and shifted gears switching the phone to my other shoulder and changing lanes. "Funny. All this time I thought you were talking about sex! You _sneaky _bastard."

Beside me Julie rolled her eyes and fastened the five point restraint the car had been modified with for a seat belt. I glanced at the ceiling and realized someone had added a very subtle roll-bar to the ceiling…just in case. Guess I was glad I hadn't shot Anton, _today._ Julie pulled two rock climbing clips from the backpacks front pocket and secured the bag to the harness straps so it sat in her lap in arms reach while I exited the terminal and motored off still keeping with the flow of traffic.

"Is Julie with you?" Changing the subject Ranger? _Interesting._ His voice was still husky and thick.

"What is it your weekend already?" I joked, I glanced at Julie and she grinned rolling her eyes at me. "She's with me, you'll have her back tonight, _promise_."

"_Babe_, Just stay put and I'll be there to get you _both_ in thirty minutes."

I laughed, I couldn't help it. _Too late, not with this baby to take for a spin!_ "You and I both know it takes _at least_ an hour to reach the airport—" I said.

"Not the way I'm driving." Ranger growled low in his throat.

I snorted in response, one of these days he was going to get a ticket...and I'd hate to see the fine! "Now who's breaking the law?" I teased.

"I'll call you on my cellphone right now, I'll start driving."

"Pretty sure that's illegal too," I said ignoring the fact that I was driving and talking on the phone…_I needed to hang up…I just… I couldn't do it…not yet… I needed his voice._

"It's a _gray _area Babe,"

I snorted a laugh "Pretty sure it isn't! Tell you what; I'll meet you somewhere halfway. But you're going to have to hurry I'm on a tight schedule."

"Hot date?" There was a definite possessive growl to his voice that gave me a hot flash that was a definite seven out of ten. "Something like that…" I shot back wondering what he might say if I pushed him…might be my last chance to find out…

"Where am I going Babe?" _Damn. __Subject change._ Guess that's probably for the best. I needed to hang up anyway, focus on driving or I'd mess up our plans.

"Simple. Follow the helicopters—they should be here any minute…"

Julie was craning her head around the windows even as I said this staring up at the sky between buildings in the darkness, she pointed when she found what she was looking for, and my eyes flicked to the rearview mirror as we both started looking for a tail.

"Babe," Ranger's voice was a warning. Oh he wasn't happy now, that's for _damn sure!_

"Gotta run." I said punching the accelerator to the floor and feeling the car shoot forward so fast my stomach would have been in the back seat…if there'd been one. 518 horses snapped to attention and saluted. Beside me Julie squealed.

"Things to do, people to see…" I added then I sucked in a deep breath and thought _fuck_ _it,_ if this goes wrong I'll be dead in thirty minutes…_I'd better say it._

"_I love you Ranger_," It was barely more than a whisper with the way my heart was stuck in my throat like a boulder sized lump. I hoped he heard me. I felt like he should know. "I'm sorry, I have to do this." I added guilt clawing at my insides over what this would do to him.

Then I smashed the 'end' button with my thumb rolled down the window with the press of one trembling finger and ditched the phone. I exited the airport ramp and hit 95 southbound towards Trenton going 80mph. I slowed to 55 and shot right through the EZ pass lane without stopping. And there wasn't a barcode anywhere on this car.

_Screw your tolls Jersey I'm a Wanted Woman!_

_God I've always wanted to do that!_

I smashed the pedal to the floor and we surged around cars in true Jersey style. "That Bird's riding our ass." Julie informed me still looking out the side window and I nodded.

We cruised along without a problem for a good ten minutes, I was using the time to learn the car, she was a responsive little thing and I had a feeling I'd need some of these moves sorted out before the end. Julie took the time to fiddle with the high-end radio. Someone, (read: Anton the Ass) had programed the thing with an MP3 of Rhianna's 'Shut up and Drive'. We listened to it twice then shut it off to concentrate on other stuff.

I'd just swung us around two compact cars and a big rig when the car started ringing. I glanced at Julie. "How do we answer that?"

"Watch the road and I'll figure it out," she said leaning forward to fiddle with the touch screen sitting were normally, in one of my old cars, the POS radio or an empty hole with some broken wires would sit. She fiddled for less than two seconds and a rich voice filled the car.

"You've got television coverage already Querida, on four channels, but according to the police scanners they are several minutes out, and they are not certain who you are despite the call—no one believes you have a car like that or can drive it. Take your time—no mistakes."

He hung up before I could say anything—like '_Hey! How the Hell did you call my car!_' for starters. I thought that might have been useful information since I'd already ditched my phone. "Hello to you too," I said to no one and Julie snorted.

We cruised 95 south going 145, five miles over the fastest police car in Trenton; and it felt like 70 in the Audi. It was effortless! Behind us at various ramps I started seeing blue lights flashing as behind us police cars merged and tried to gain—and then just never did. They fell back farther and farther until they were lost behind other vehicles, or turns or by distance alone.

Damn. I might have to actually slow down!

Even the helicopter was having trouble keeping up as I pushed the accelerator to the floor again and we launched ahead nearing 160 on a long flat straight section again. I was glad I knew these roads well growing up here, one wrong move at this speed and it wouldn't be a matter of never walking again—they'd be clean us off the pavement with a snow shovel and a kitchen sponge.

Roughly five minutes later the dashboard started ringing again. Julie hit the button and answered before Anton could speak since I was busy swerving around a mini-van.

"Julie?!" Ranger's voice barked through the sound system and I shrieked in surprise and jumped so hard in my seat I had to re-correct twice and zip around a corvette that foolishly thought it could keep up for about…_oh, .02 seconds… sucker!_

"How'd you get this number?!" I barked back while Julie sat in stunned silence staring at the radio emitting her Dad's voice he sounded angry enough to climb through the dashboard and strangle someone…_probably me._ _Yikes_.

"Babe," Ranger said. _Or not. __Hmmm._

"The machines, they've become sentient." Julie said and I snorted and slid around a truck and a civic that were hugging the white lines trying to stay the Hell outta of my way…who says Jersey drivers are crazy?

"Pull over at the next overpass and get out of the car, I'll have Zip and Zero there in under a minute—"

"No, can do." I said.

"_Stephanie._"

"_Carlos_."

He snarled in frustration and Julie yelped, "Mom look out!" and I curled us around a cop car that had zipped up the ramp and nearly side-swiped us going 60 to our 140. "I got it babe, I got it, calm down it's okay." Julie was twisted in her seat checking the status of the cop car as we high tailed it away. "Holy Crap! Watch the on-ramps," she cautioned me turning around again. "You got it," I said and moved us over another lane so we couldn't be easily surprised again.

"Babe, where did you learn to drive like that?"

_Shit._ I'd forgotten Ranger was listening in.

"Pizza delivery route," Julie said and hit the 'end' button on the screen. My eyes went wide and I would have stared at her mouth agape if I didn't think that might almost crash us again.

"You just hung up on Batman." I said when I found my voice.

"You need to concentrate. Turns coming up," Julie said, and the car started ringing again.

"Don't answer it," Julie said. "He'll just try to talk us out of this, and that's not an option is it?" I could feel her staring at me.

"It isn't," I said. "But it could be Anton, and we need to know where Luent is."

"Crap on a Cracker." Julie said. She leaned forward and hit the—whatever it is she hit before to answer the phone; and Ranger's voice filled the car again.

"Babe, I have directions for you, they'll get you off that highway and away from the cops."

Except that wasn't the plan, and every time I heard his voice the knots in my stomach were getting worse. "Can't," I managed to squeak out. "Julie's got a tracker in her bag, is Hector with you?"

"Yes,"

"Put me on speaker phone and I'll give him the code so he can link to it and you can see where she is."

"I know where she is Babe, you're on 95 going 160! It's all over the news—they're even talking about it on the Radio, but they don't know it's you. You have to stop, ditch the car and let me handle this—"

I shook my head. That wasn't going to work. I nodded to Julie and she gave Ranger a string of ten numbers and two letters cutting him off mid-sentence and I hoped to God he remembered them.

"Babe,"

"Not this time Ranger." I said "And stop calling my car!" I jerked my hand off the steering wheel to hit the 'end' button myself. I slowed and took the right exit and Julie reached in her bag and pulled out the tablet inside, we cruised the dark streets silently like a dangerous predator, slinking between buildings and up and down side-streets while Julie booted things up. After flying down the highway going 45 was like a crawl.

The car rang again but this time the screen said 'ANTON' and we were going slow enough that I could hit the button.

"Problems?" he said the moment the connection was open.

"Yeah, Ranger keeps calling the car—which I didn't even know was possible by the way!"

"It shouldn't be, he must have had one of his computer geeks hack into the blue tooth information at the airport—the car would have sync'd automatically the second it got close enough to the airport. The signal carries some basic information about the vehicle—make, model year. It wouldn't have been very hard to find the car's information."

"So because we drove by the airport, Ranger can phone my car?"

"Technology is a pain in the Ass." Anton said.

"Where's our favorite FBI agent?"

Anton gave me a street and we zipped off to find him. It didn't take long, we pulled up alongside him at a red light, rolled down Julie's window and waved until his head jerked around from looking straight and he did a double take. Then I shot through the still red light, hooked an illegal left turn and the chase was back on!

I couldn't go anywhere near as fast on these streets and Luent had some pretty impressive driving skills himself. We weaved out around the few cars on the road, blew through another toll road stop and four police vehicles joined the crowd.

We exited the toll road and zipped down a two lane highway with Luent gaining on my bumper, there was a pop like a backfire and I jerked Julie's shoulder toward the floorboard—which didn't do much good in her five point harness.

"Is he Shooting at us?!" she gasped. "There's a kid in the car!"

"He doesn't care remember!"

Three side streets, one hair pin turn, we zoomed back up the road and I cut the wheel counting on the Audi's AWD to save our asses—the car held the turn like it was made for this. We rocketed back up the street towards cooper's Bridge and I could only hope Rangeman had Julie's signal by now.

"Ready?"

"Ready." Julie said.

I slowed down—not a lot, but enough that as we neared the raised area of road near the bridge a good twenty feet over the water Luent's SUV pulled even with my quarter panel. "He's going to do it." Julie said and I braced the wheel and cut into the turn as he angled his SUV into us—nudging us into almost a spin—The car caught wheels and suspension squealed in protest and I slammed my foot down on the accelerator.

We hit the embankment hard enough to jar teeth, the car bounced up kicking grass and dirt everywhere with the left hand tires riding the grass—the right side caught the rising wall of road and the car tipped up on its edge seemed to teeter for a moment then it flipped over and hung in mid-air for what felt like an eternity before I realized we were falling. I saw water in front of us—below us. It looked like a great black-nothing in the dark.

We both screamed. I covered Julie's body with mine as best I could and then we plunged into the darkness under the bridge eager to swallow us whole and everything went black.

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**TBC...**


	21. Chapter 21

**Disclaimer:** Honestly Babe! It's not mine! (if it was I'd have Waaaaaay more fun with Ranger!) LOL

**Notes:** Holy Crap on a Cracker! You guys are AWESOME! I've never had so many reviews for one story you guys make me feel like a Super-Writer! xD

There's some Police Jargon in this Chapter like 10-4 and such-most of it should be in context but like the Spanish I put the meaning in (parenthesis) so hopefully it wont be to difficult/confusing!

Also...

This chapter took over 30 hours to write (usually I get them done in a few hours between writing and proof-reading) but this was a HUGE chapter, maybe not so much in word length but in context it's Super-Dee-Duper (yeah I'm a dork) important!

I hope I got it right! This one and the next one could make or break this story... *fingers crossed*

**Edited thanks to Vulcan Rider! Thank you! xD**

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**Chapter Twenty-One**

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**Ranger's POV**

They hit the sub-level parking deck at Rangeman at a dead run. The steel door slamming with a thunder-clap worthy bang against the concrete wall as they spilled out into the empty space bolting towards cars already falling into a tactical formation without conscious thought.

Les leapt behind the wheel of one of the Rangemen SUV's, keys already in his hand and Ranger took shotgun. Hector positioned himself in the back seat; he had a tablet in his hand and was furiously swiping his hands over the device tracking something. The moment his ass hit the seat and the doors shut Lester was gunning it backwards out of the slot and screeching out of the parking lot.

Tank's Team roared up the garage ramp and swung onto the road a half second behind them with such aggression anyone watching from the street might think a war was on somewhere in Trenton and the Cavalry was coming in.

"Get me a location, Now!" Ranger barked and behind his shoulder Hector nodded in response with a quick 'Si,'

"Ranger?" Les asked as the floored it down Haywood running three yellow lights Tank right on their behind.

"Head toward 95," Ranger ordered activating and tuning the SUV's system into the Rangeman Control room so Woody could relay the police scanner to them—instead they got the full on report as Woody had the scanner tied directly to the SUV's communication system a split second later.

_The secret was out_, Ranger realized. _Things just got a whole lot more Fucked_.

_"__All units this is Dispatch be advised 10-80 in progress; possible stolen vehicle southbound on 95, somewhere north of Trenton exit—south of Newark airport road." __It sounded like Terri the desk clerk was on Dispatch tonight. __(chase)_

_"__10-4 on that, do we have a mile marker, or tag on that vehicle? __That's one Hell of a stretch of road to be cruising in the dark."__Eddie __Gazzara__'__s voice responded.__(copy/affirmative)_

_"__No confirmed 10-28, multiple calls to station—vehicles is dark color and moving fast." __Terri said. __(vehicle tag/info)_

_"__That's helpful." __Big Dog responded after a beat.__ "__You just described half the Hoodlums, Gangbangers and Guidos in Newark."_

_"__Get off the Radio if you don't have anything useful to report!" __Terri said._

"Hector, give me something useful man," Les begged from the driver seat.

Before Hector could the Dispatch police scanner went off again:

_"__10-33 unit 219 responding, confirmation of vehicle on 95 southbound center lane, Mile marker 124. __Vehicle is dark blue Audi, 2 door. __Sonofabitch is fast as shit. __Clocked at 145mph at Ramp before mile marker 125. __In pursuit, send back up."_

His Babe was doing 145mph down 95s? _Cogerme_. (Fuck me!)

"Levanta eso!" Hector exclaimed from the backseat then tapped Ranger's shoulder. "Dame tu teléfono." (Got it! Give me your phone.)

Ranger handed it over and went back to the radio.

_"__All officers be advised tip 10-21. __Driver is Stephanie Michelle Plum, Wanted by FBI for questioning in kidnapping and Second Degree Larceny—Suspect should be considered Armed and Dangerous—Do not approach without back-up 10-30." (by phone/use caution)_

_"__Repeat that!?"_

_"__10-9 Dispatch, Did you say Stephanie Plum?!" __(repeat)_

_"__Holy Shit! Somebody Call Joe!"_

"Well Fuck." Lester said and hit the on-ramp going 65 around a jug-handle making the SUV list dangerously towards two wheels. "Keep it on the Damn Road Santos." Ranger snarled. The could _not_ afford a roll over now!

"I have team one an' two in route now to intercept new location." Woody's Texan drawl came over the Rangeman line from the Control Room.

"Got it," Les said as Woody from command uploaded all four Rangemen SUV positions into the Satellite GPS on the dash and little blue dots blinked to life like a bizarre game of modern Pac Man.

"El jefe," Hector said handing Ranger back his phone.

Ranger took it and glanced down at the number. "Qué es esto ?" (What's this?)

"Teléfono del coche, te conecto," Hector said nodding his chin toward the smartphone indicating Ranger should hit 'send' to complete the call. (Car's phone—I connect you.)

"You can do that?!" Les said in astonishment.

Ranger hit the send button and waited only one ring.

"Yo!" Julie said, the noise of a high performance engine revving hummed in the background.

"Julie?!" _He hadn't heard his daughter's voice except in recordings in months…_

"How'd you get this number?!" Stephanie shouted loud enough it hurt his ears even through the phone.

"_Babe_," _Really? __She was a fugitive in a police chase and she was worried about how he made a phone call?! _

"The machines, they've become sentient." Julie said in his ear. Stephanie snorted and even Ranger felt his lips twitch.

"I have the news feed," Hector said from behind them, handing Ranger the tablet. It was an overhead view of a dark almost black sports car as it passed under the glow of street lights you could just make out the deep shiny blue hue—the engine's metal cover reflected just barely visible through the dark glass across the back half of the car. It was zipping in and out of lanes, and sliding around cars like it was going 65 instead of 150.

Ranger glanced at the blue dots calculating the miles in his head. "Pull over at the next overpass and get out of the car. I'll have Zip and Zero there in under a minute—"

"No, can do." She said cutting him off. _Que carajo estaba ella pensando?! _(What the fuck was she thinking?)

"_Stephanie—Babe,_" Ranger's hands clenched white knuckled against the edge of the tablet threatening to crack it. He wanted to grab her, shake her; _make her understand_. This was incredibly dangerous, not just because of the speed! Which was admit ably giving him heart palpitations…this was deadly serious! The cops were in pursuit of her as a fugitive; they weren't her friends. Not anymore, this wasn't a game!

"_Carlos_." She shot back.

_Dios salve a su nombre en los labios de nuevo, ella lo estaba matando!_ Ranger bit back a groan and snarled in frustration gritting his teeth. (God save him, his name on her lips again, she was killing him!) He was about ready to open his mouth and let them _both_ have it with the same temper he'd let loose on his men many a time when Julie yelped, "Mom look out!" sending his heart into his throat instead.

Not a split second later his Babe cursed under her breath and the sound of the engine revving through the phone filled his ears while someone sucked in a sharp breathe—it might have been him; he wasn't sure with the way his heart was suddenly hammering hard enough in his ears to deafen him. His eyes locked on the tiny zipping car on the tablet's screen.

Ranger watched helpless as the highway patrol car on the tiny screen swing too wide on purpose taking the on ramp, aiming to knock them off the road…drive them into the concrete wall on the other side. The screaming blue car punched forward in response and swerved into the emergency lane avoiding the close call and the wall by mere inches before diving away again.

There was no exploding sound of metal and plastic in his ears, only his Babe's calm voice trying to reassure his daughter they were fine. "I got it babe, I got it, calm down its okay."

_She'd called his daughter babe, trying to sooth her. __He wondered if she even realized she'd done it…_

"Holy Crap! Watch the on-ramps," Julie breathed sounding shaken.

"You got it,"

"Babe, where did you learn to drive like that?" He'd watched the entire thing happen in his hands—and he still couldn't believe it. _Where the hell had they been the last few months?!_

"Pizza delivery route," Julie said through the phone and then the line went dead. Ranger pulled the phone away and stared at it for a full three seconds.

_Did they just hang up on him?!_

Ranger hit redial and the phone started ringing again. He watched the image as the car accelerated—leaping forward and gaining ground away from the helicopter even—it screamed forward probably pushing 170mph by his estimation.

"Disconnected?" Lester asked an odd quirk to his tone. Ranger cut his eyes to his cousin, if that Jackass was smiling about his Babe hanging up on him during a high-speed police chase he was going to shoot the man. Luckily for Lester if there had _been _a smile, he hid it well.

The line picked up again. The helicopter camera was searching the highway—and finding nothing; now they were focusing the camera on a bank of five police cruisers all racing up the highway lights and sirens on. Ranger launched right into his next plan, the cops were closing in according to the radio—stationing all available patrol units along ramps ahead to try to head them off. "Babe, I have directions for you, they'll get you off that highway and away from the cops."

"Can't…Julie's got a tracker in her bag, is Hector with you?"

_A Tracker? __Good. __This he liked. They could use that the signal the second they were on foot to find them before the cops did. _ "Yes,"

"Put me on speaker phone and I'll give him the code so he can link to it and you can see where she is."

"I know where she is Babe, you're on 95 going 160! It's all over the news—they're even talking about it on the Radio, but they don't know it's you." He didn't want to panic her, so he lied. No one would ever know for sure as long as he could get them out of there before they set up a road block and caused a fatal crash.

"You have to stop, ditch the car and let me handle this—"

Instead Julie recited a string of ten numbers and two letters that part of his military trained brain instantly grabbed a hold of, memorizing to give to Hector in a moment. It was obvious she wasn't going to stop. "_Babe,_" he breathed, his voice and chest too tight, _he was ready to say please; ready to beg, promise anything, if that's what it would take…_

"Not this time Ranger." She said sounding defeated. "And stop calling my car!"

The line again went dead.

_"__All units be advised, do not deploy stop strip—child in car. __Repeat—do not deploy stop strips or attempt to ram vehicle! __Child; possible hostage in car." __Terri's voice came over he Dispatch—he'd almost completely tuned it out until now.__ "__Fuck! __Somebody call Rangeman!" __One of the police officers howled over the radio._

Ranger snorted, where the Hell did they think that last tip came from?

"Tank." Lester said on a guess. "Or Hal,"

Ranger nodded.

It was excellent thinking, let the cops know Julie was in the car and they wouldn't dare attempt to stop it with lethal force, no one wanted to hurt Stephanie; but as a fugitive she didn't give them much choice—knowing the kid was in the car changed everything. It would give him and Tank a chance to maneuver to her first. He gave Hector the string of numbers from Julie and handed back the tablet to track the GPS source down. Hector's fingers immediately got to work.

_"__Like he doesn't already know?!" __Gazzara barked a split second later over the radio.__ "__I've passed two Spook-UV's in the last mile, they're out in force—and chasing her too looks like."_

_"__You fucking get to her FIRST you Hear Me?!"__Morelli's voice crackled over the Dispatch line._

Ranger scowled. _Because the Shit-Sandwich just wasn't complete without the vice cop in the middle of it._

It seemed the cops had lost her at least—and the helicopters too; both the police and news bird had come up empty, and were scouring the air over the north and southbound highway searching for signs she'd switched directions or exited somewhere.

Calling the Audi now did nothing but put a busy signal in his ear. Either they were calling the cops themselves, didn't have a signal, or one of them had figured out how to shut the line down disconnecting the phone.

They were off the Grid for who knew how long unless Hector could get a signal on Julie's GPS. If they found it attached to the bottom of an empty bus tonight he was going to shoot something—and he didn't think he'd be that careful picking what.

Hector was furiously swiping away at the tablet in his hands, "Lester, Route 35 ahora!" (now)

Lester immediately pressed the accelerator to the floor.

_"__All units be advised: __vehicle has been located between Broad and Lint Ave, moving Eastbound now on Route 35, FBI SUV is in pursuit." _

_"__Dispatch 10-5 to FBI in lead, child on board! __Shot's fired! Repeat, Shots fired!" __(relay information)_

_"__Say again?! __Who's shooting? Stephanie?!" __Terri demanded into the Radio.__ "__The Fucking FBI Prick!" __Gazzara snarled._

"Shit," Les said.

Ranger snapped up his phone and dialed Fuller. The agent answered on the first ring. "Tell me you're in Trenton and following a blue Audi right now."

Silence. "I can be there in ten, I was on my way to your building, just got the alert on my phone, it's Stephanie?"

"Yes, and Luent is on her."

"Fuck. Look I think I know what's going on, why they came home. I was on my way to see you in person, I was hoping to tell you under different circumstances but it looks like someone put a contract hit on Ms. Plum."

"How much?" he snarled.

"2.5 Million."

Ranger's phone dropped into his lap and his fist slammed into the dashboard until the plastic split beneath his knuckles with an explosive hiss of air that only by luck didn't set the passenger side airbag off into his face.

"Ranger?!" Les was jerking his head back and forth between his outraged cousin and the road. "Eyes forward Santos." Ranger snarled snatching the phone back up ignoring the blood trickling down the back of his hand and wrist from his split knuckle.

"Who?" Ranger snapped into the phone the second it was against his ear again. "We don't know yet. I just found out through some very, very unofficial channels. It gets worse." Fuller responded.

"No." He had to squeeze his eyes closed and just breathe—already knowing what was to come.

"The second half of the contract offers a two million bonus for Julie as well."

He'd turn Trenton into a war zone the second someone tried to cash in on that contract. He'd rain Hell down upon anyone who even so much as looked at them wrong. "Santos. Drive. Faster."

The SUV surged forward instantly, it wasn't built for this kind of speed though, much faster and the risked rolling on even a minor turn.

Then it all came crashing down.

_ "__Shit! __Route 35! __I just got here! __FBI is stopped. __They must have lost control on Cooper's Bridge! __Fuck! __They're over the Bridge!" __Carl's voice barked in frantic warning._

_"__10-9 car 722, say again?!"_

_"__10-50! 10-52! Car is in the water, repeat, Car is in the water!"_

_Terri's shaking voice came over the dispatch once more. "All units, confirmed 10-50 on Cooper's bridge. __Susp...Suspect's vehicle is in the water…re…repeat…Stephanie and Julie are in the water…"_

Silence. He wasn't even sure his heart was beating. He couldn't breathe. Fuller was silent in his ear—probably tuned into the same police station.

_"__Someone tell me something!" __Terri's voice ripped through the silence completely abandoning the police jargon in her panic._

_"__No sign of them, Fuck Terri…it doesn't look good." __Big Dog's voice cracked on the last word. "That thing sank like a rock!"_

_"__Don't tell me that, Do not Tell me that!" Terry wailed._

_"__Hang on!"__Big dog said._

It felt like hours as they raced toward the scene not two minutes away going 90mph in dead silence. Tank's SUV ten feet behind them.

_"__They got the kid! __Gazzara's got the kid! __She's alive!" __Big dog said, his voice thick._

_"__Stephanie?"_

Silence.

_Come on Babe…come on…don't do this, not like this…_

"I can't hear them from here…but the kid's trying to go back in the water…it… it doesn't look good."

10 seconds…

30…

60…

"Dispatch, be advised…10-66."

_No..._

_NO!_

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(10-66 : Notify Medical Examiner)

TBC...


	22. Chapter 22

**Disclaimer: **_Not mine still, I checked my bank account this morning; not enough money to buy Ranger! Drat!_

**Notes: **Huge thanks to the readers/reviewers; seriously! Can't say this enough! As I post this 591 reviews! Holy Batmobile! XD

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This chapter/scene is probably more brutal then the last three combined… sorry 'bout that but It'll be worth it soon…I hope! (eep!) I blame it on Julie's acting skills she said, you want convincing? Step aside bitches! Batman Jr is dangerous!

This chapter specifically was helped along immensely by the song 'Too Late' by M83 off their CD Saturdays = Youth Song was on endless repeat in my headphones while I wrote this-all day, yet again another difficult chapter, but I hope it came out right and you enjoy the finished product!

um, you might want tissues handy? maybe? if I did this right...

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**Chapter Twenty-Two**

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**Ranger's POV**

He was out of the SUV before the wheels were completely stopped. Dark apprehensive brown eyes skimming the crowd—searching the gathering near the grassy water's edge beneath the hulking shadow of Cooper's Bridge in the dark. Only the longest of shadows under its base stretching out over the water remained constant, untouched even with the continual flash of red and blue emergency lights circling alternately in every direction like macabre club lighting. Faces he recognized even at a great distance from his years working in Trenton became haunted strangers, strobingly illuminated in the bursting flares of melancholic light.

No one shouted. No one joked or carried on. For a crime scene in Trenton, and this crowd it was all wrong. There would be no bets taking place or cashing out on site, after tonight, there might never be again—the silence sat like a physical weight on everyone hunching shoulders, bowing heads and spines and souring even the strongest stomachs.

The paperwork at the station might say fugitive, but the grim set of every mouth and the dark shadowed eyes said tonight Trenton PD's men in blue had lost one of their own.

A few of the station's most familiar veterans—Carl, Big Dog and her relative by marriage Eddie Gazzara , who was openly crying, were sitting and leaning against the side of nearby squad cars—not speaking, not moving, not even pretending to participate. It was like driving up to a funeral home, the service already in session.

All around him, even the emergency response teams from out of town called in to the crisis officially—or drawn by private curiosity and the lure of firsthand accounts on yet another 'Bombshell disaster' recognized the somber air and held their tongues, expressions grim—eyes distant or hard—or red rimmed.

Team four, Tank's SUV, stopped somewhere behind him. He barely registered the sound of multiple doors slamming in the dark or Tank calling out to him, heavy boot falls on hard pavement, a booming voice telling, asking, _begging_ him to _stop_.

_He's shrugging off a hand, jerking his arm up and rolling his shoulder to escape someone's hold. _

_He has to know, he has to…_

_If she's dead…no. no no no…_

The smallest body standing in a sea of uniformed police men draws him like a magnet, in the moment he's equally torn. His daughter is right there whole and alive, yet he's drawn toward the water like the ocean to the moon. Julie's face is turned away from him but even at this distance he knows his daughter's outline. He's calling her name decision made—shouting to her before he's made it a little over half the distance across the somber lot, his voice hoarse and rough, his throat feels scratchy and too tight.

_Julie is alive, His babe is…is….shit, he can't even think it._

Her hair is hanging loose and wet, curling in clumped strands and clinging to the underside of her chin when she whips her head around and sees him. The rest of the dark strands are plastered to her temples and head her skin steaming just barely in the flashes of light from the cold night—one of the uniforms—a nameless face he barely registered is trying to keep her wrapped in a blanket. Hoping no doubt to combat the cold night's air, fighting against the heat-robbing quality of her obviously drenched clothes visibly clinging to her slight frame even at this distance.

The officer keeps wrapping it tighter around her shoulders, and Julie kept shrugging it off, slapping at his hands and waving her arms, trying to return to the water. She's saying something, arguing back, her expression determined—angry and set on doing what she wants. The officer repeatedly catching her wrists and hands turning her back around and bending to repeat himself over and over again—the message not getting through, he's had enough. He's trying to force her from the water bank now, unaware that Ranger's even there. He's attempting to lift her with one arm, carry her from the scene while she kicks and screams broken snatches of her cries reach his ears.

_Stephanie. No! Keep looking! Let me go back… _her words and struggle finally garnering the attention of the other stunned cops, who seem too stunned to realize what's going on right behind them.

Ranger felt his eyes still sweeping, searching frantically even as he draws close, his heart climbing higher and higher into his throat.

_It couldn't be true, it couldn't be…she had to be in the ambulance already…or somewhere in the lot, he thinks it even as he knows it's wrong. But he can't accept this, she was always fine, no matter what the disaster—she was the luckiest woman he'd ever met in his whole god damn life…but then where was she…she couldn't still be in the water. _

_Not after so long…_

"Let go of me! Stephanie! No!" His daughter's frantic scream reached his ears clearly now from across the lot, maybe she's just decided to really add some volume to her shout. Other cops are moving in, trying to sooth her, or detain her and she's taking none of it. Someone from out of town gets frustrated with her continued struggle, snarling "She's Dead Kid!"

Several Trenton cops recoil from the words like gun shots faces distorted in pain.

Julie twists, screams, kicks at one, twists in a portly man's hold jerking her arm up, spinning and kicked out taking the uniformed officer in the thigh making him draw back in shock and pain and he lets go. There's a shout of warning—but she's not moving to the water this time. She twists and bolts across the lot, running full out; right to him.

The cops start to bolt after her—and stop short. He has no idea what expression is on his face right now, but more than a few of them pale visibly, a few hands twitch towards their guns. More cars are arriving all the time, lights on, sirens silenced. There's no point. The first camera crew arrives somewhere off to his right with a large van—a satellite dish on top_. Tragedy in Trenton is always breaking news, _he thinks with a snarl.

He has her in his arms in two seconds flat, sweeping her up off the ground clutching her against his chest with shaking hands. Holding her so tight the wheezing breathes she utters might not be from the cold and wet but from his crushing hug. She's sobbing into his ear, the sound broken, staggering, harsh. Every inch of her is freezing cold, shivering and soaking wet. The blanket she had around her shoulders now in one of the officer's hands who has just arrived, he quietly scooped it off the asphalt and moved close enough to offer it in outstretched hands to Tank. A peace offering of sorts; Condolences.

He recognizes the officer suddenly as if through a heavy fog; it's Joe Morelli. He looks ten years older tonight, exhausted and his eyes are already red. His hands shake when he stuffs them inside his worn leather jacket pockets giving Ranger a single slow nod of his head. No one wants to fight tonight. He shuffles away without comment, leaving them to enjoy what little they can about being reunited.

Julie's fingers dig painfully despite her smaller size against his back, the side of his neck is wet, the strands of her hair clinging to his skin while she sobs against him. She smells like brine with a faint undercurrent of coconut oil, it reminds him suddenly of her lotion and his eyes burn and his chest hurts.

"_Stephanie_?" he can barely croak the name out. Julie's whole frame shudders, convulses in his arms twisting away like the quiet word is an assault; three syllables so painful she can't stand to hear them uttered at all. Even against his neck he feels her face crumple in response and _he knows_. In an instant_, it's real._ All hope is gone.

He's on his knees—he doesn't remember how, he's not sure how he didn't drop her during his fall still wrapped around him like she is. All he knows is the next moment Julie's rearing back from his embrace pushing off his chest to stand on her own two feet. She's barely taller than him like this. Then she's screaming and hitting him over and over again, any part of him she can reach, his chest, his shoulders, his head, his face. She even kicks him in the thigh with one sodden tennis shoe, smashing his shoulders and chest with her fists.

He barely feels it.

The words hurt so much more.

_No, please God no…_

"Where were you?!" She wails at him, slapping and punching and clawing til the side of his neck and one edge of his cheek stings. "_She_ needed you! _I _needed you! And you weren't there! You're _Never _There!" She's suddenly crying again, damn near hysterical, her words almost lost in his ears. He wishes they were, _he doesn't want to hear this…he can't…He's not strong enough to face the truth. _

_No…_

They have the full attention of every officer in the lot, uncomfortably so…not for his part, he hardly notices listening to his daughter's angry desperate assault. Faces turn away, expressions blanch. Against the SUV to his right Hal is on the ground, sitting his back against one tire, face hidden in his arms_. _Behind him someone curses, and the voice is wet, scratchy and too thick to sound right.

Julie's tiny frame is wracked with sobs so intense she goes to her knees too collapses before he can react beyond snatching her arms—and then she shoves him. Both hands planted on his chest flinging him backwards with an outraged scream that echoes off everything, wordless pain filling the night—hard enough he lands on his ass in front of her. The cry so wounded that fifty feet from them even Morelli stops his shoulders hunching in reaction to the sound. No one moves. No one screams, there are no tears to be found.

Julie's horror and pain and sobbing curses are enough for all of them.

Larger men have tried and failed to knock him down, but his daughter has done it and he's not even sure how. He feels numb, dizzy, he's in a tunnel with black spots swirling at the edges of his vision and he's not sure how the hell to get out. Maybe it's shock. The reality of what she's saying, what it means… _No. _

He can see the shock on Tank's face, and Carl and Big Dog who followed Julie over from the squad car on the other side of the lot, maybe to talk before Julie truly fell apart. Now they stand frozen like his men, unable to cope with something so raw, such loss.

It's easy to remain stoic when everyone else follows the plan; but in the face of such anguish… even the most practiced control isn't enough.

One by one the crowd is starting to lose it, cops bail, slink away to squad cars and dark corners between arriving cars to breathe slowly or swipe at cheeks and eyes. Hal's sobs reach him in broken snatches between his daughter's distraught cries.

All around him is chaos as the world falls apart.

But not him, not anymore, all feeling is gone. He's empty, numb, Lost.

_No…_

"She's dead!" Julie screams it confirming his worst nightmare, his greatest fear—what he already knows from the way she's looking at him. Still he flinches backwards, has to turn his face away from the awful truth, closing his eyes tight against the flashing emergency lights and the raw pain in her eyes. He wants to clap his hands over his ears against the ringing in his head, rub his palms over the hollow, empty, excruciating hole sucking at his chest with every stuttering heartbeat searching for relief. It's like being shot; it's so much worse, it's like being burned alive, it will never be right. This pain is intolerable, it's too much; it's swallowing him whole.

"She's dead!" She sobs again her shoulders slumping, heaving as she chokes and sputters and fights around her own tears and snot for another breath to talk.

"You weren't there to save her! Why weren't you there?!" She launches herself at him again and he sees Lester from the corner of his eye reach for her—ready to pull her away before she can claw at him hit him again—her previous blows still barely registering though by tomorrow he's no doubt many of her blows will bruise.

She flies at him without warning threatening to shove him maybe—hit him again and he catches her instead, clutches her against him, trapping her hands in his. Holding her bruising tight while she falls apart keening and sobbing and soaking his vest and shirt with another hot mix of tears and snot contrasting with the cold salt water in her clothes, the briny residue clings tacky and sticky against his skin.

"She's dead…" she whimpers it this time, the nearly soundless defeat so much more painful to his senses then her previous fight. She's rocking back and forth in his hold, trying to sooth herself like a much smaller child, clinging to his skin where she's still cradled in his arms. He squeezes her tighter and tighter swaying slightly himself in an age old rhythm all parents know by instinct this time. He has to close his eyes tight, placing his chin on her bowed head, shaking Lester off when his cousin moves in again. This is his penance, his alone. He failed them both again.

"She's dead…I killed her…I killed her," Julie whispers into his neck clinging to him while he fights to blink the intense burning behind his eyes away, tries to swallow down the lump wringing the air from of his throat, the strangling suffocation in his chest rips at his senses with every attempted inhale of breath. Nothing seems to be working right.

He's drowning, falling, aching and yet numb. His lungs feel too full, his chest too tight and yet he can't squelch the burn…he gasps for air, fighting to keep each exhale measured and even, his breath hitches, it doesn't work.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry Daddy…God I killed her, why weren't you there…" She turns her face into the Vee of his vest and burrows there with no more words. Her cold fingers clutching the edges of his sleeves, cold fingertips wrapped partially around one bicep as she simply breathes her short nails painted pale pink leaving half-moon imprints in his skin before going limp again. For a few minutes he wonders if she's fallen asleep. If he should get up, carry her back to the SUV…or maybe to the ambulance.

Tank approaches now, wrapping the blanket around them both and Ranger clutches it closed, cocooning his only child, the only other person he loves left in this world with his body and scratchy blue wool. It's a good ten minutes later when someone draws his attention again.

A phone is ringing somewhere in the vicinity, it's not a sound he recognizes, not one of his—it's shrill and piercing to both his raw nerves and his aching head, he wishes whoever the fuck owned the damn thing would answer it.

Against his chest Julie turns her face, one arm shifts releasing her grip and a single solitary finger hooks over the blankets edge, pulling the flap down so she can peek out again. He says nothing, staring straight ahead, realizing a lot has changed since they've been sitting here. A wrecker has arrived, and two small tug boats, one with a crane attached to its bow. Both had made the slightly winding journey inland from the open ocean to the inter coastal water beneath Cooper's Bridge.

Divers are searching the water now under and around the bridge, their dark suits and lights drawing a few brave cops back to the shoreline. Every time they immerge they signal over with their hands, always the same—nothing found. He's not surprised, if she was unconscious from the crash or made it out of the car and drowned…the water current of the outgoing tide would have easily carried her body far away by now. With a tight grimace he realizes they might never find her body; there would only be an empty casket to bury; a sentimental gravestone he would never visit—doing so would make it too real all over again.

Agent Fuller is talking to Luent. He has no earthly idea when the other man arrived. No one's approached him yet, probably because Tank, Les, Cal and Bobby have taken up positions around him like sentinels without him noticing. He tilts his chin down to see his daughter's face, she's still peeking out of the blanket staring at the FBI agent's across the lot. They seem to be arguing about something, there's head shaking and arm waving—on Luent's part at least.

On his wrist his watch emits a single almost inaudible beep denoting the passage of time, which Ranger finds momentarily odd, he _always_ turns such alarms off—simple things like ringtones and watch alerts at the wrong times could give your position away.

Julie pushes at his arm following the soft beep, standing up she starts walking toward the two Agents with a stiff set to her spine, both men still arguing across the lot while Ranger watches a little stunned, _it's like watching a switch get flipped-is this how his babe always felt when he did the same thing to her? Dios..._

He's up before she's gone five feet though, wrapping the blanket, now more than damp around her tiny shoulders. She closes both fists against the edges in front of her chest like a cape. Tank and his men follow them—unsure what she's doing. From the set of her shoulders Ranger's not certain she isn't going to attack Luent next—Ranger's well aware that as the first in pursuit it would have been the Agent's direct actions that drove them into the water; and that it had not been on accident. Only the incredible numbness in his chest and every extremity, the pounding in his head and the multitude of witnesses has stopped the lesser man from being dead.

Julie keeps walking until she's within five feet of the FBI agents. They've both stopped talking noticing her approach. Fuller is looking at her, his expression carefully masked. Luent is looking, anywhere else.

Agent Luent's phone is ringing again, the obnoxious standard ring clearly emanating from somewhere in the vicinity of his jacket pocket as they draw closer. Which explained the angry trilling sound Ranger had been hearing for almost a half hour now—Luent's inside pocket Ranger noted absently since the soft cloth of the man's jacket lacked the obvious rectangle or sharp edge that had become so distinguishable in this day in age.

Julie lifts her chin to stare at him. Her expression or maybe her incredible stillness drew his attention finally from looking around the lot, his hands remained on his hips as he stared down at her before looking away again—out toward the water and the divers like he's considering going to bark at the dive teams to find out what's taking so long.

"Aren't you going to answer that?" Julie asks suddenly startling everyone with her calm firm tone. She's sliding the blanket off her shoulders and folding it over once before dropping it to her side, clutching it in one hand, the long damp ends of heavy material trailing on the pavement with a light scraping noise.

"Sorry?" Luent snaps something akin to anger flashing over his face regarding Julie once more. He looks irritated to find her addressing him, bothered perhaps by the conversation she's just ended by approaching, or maybe Luent simply didn't like children the same way nobody liked _him_.

Julie didn't flinch back, her gaze never wavered, her jaw clenched and her free hand fisted by her thigh. "It's just who could possibly have called you four times in the last what, ten minutes? Especially when everyone you know on the team is here? If you had a wife or kids at home you'd have at least looked at the thing by now...and you haven't." Julie lips are pinched in careful thought, her thinking face—Ranger's seen it before…on his babe. Ranger felt his eyes sweep over the tense and annoyed looking Agent. Beside him Agent Fuller did the same.

"It's not important." Luent snapped eyes threatening to burn holes in his daughter head like laser beams. A lesser person twice her age might have shied away from such vicious indignation. If she hadn't lived through Scrog, and this debacle, planning escape and eluding them with his babe for months the look might have had some effect. But his Babe Girl is too strong, she stands under that glare, unoffended, her spine ram rod straight completely ignoring his gaze.

"Obviously, the last time I called someone _four times in a row_ in only a few minutes I wasn't desperate to reaching that person _at all_." Julie said snottily then added, "And then there's the fact that your _real_ cell phone is in your right pants pocket—not your jacket. I know that ringtone—especially after the last few months. There's a burner phone in your pocket, why?"

"Some people have two phones," Luent snarled. As if on command the smartphone outlined in Luent's pant pocket chirped in alert. Everyone including Luent glanced at his pocket. Julie's arm snapped up in an instant; flinging the heavy wet wool blanket in her right hand at Agent Luent's face. His arms flew up to try to shield himself then got tangled up trying to drag the blanket off his face.

Julie dived forward in the instant his vision was obstructed and everyone was distracted and confused by her attack. One hand expertly popping lose the snap on the leather strip keeping his FBI issue gun in place at his waist—the movement smooth, practices and quick, her other hand snaking into his pants pocket faster than a New York pick-pocket and retrieving his smartphone.

"Hey!" Fuller shouted, his palms rose toward Ranger's daughter now standing ten feet away having danced back from Luent, his smart phone in one hand and the man's service 9 mm in the other.

"Julie!"

She ignores his startled bark completely. All the attention in the lot is on her now; holding the gun, her finger is on the trigger looking confident. The sights set on Luent's head. Ranger notes in a split second she's taken the safety off the weapon in the same moment she freed it from the Agent's holster, if she fires at this distance she'll take off the top of his head. Nobody moves. Julie's keeping one eye on Agent Luent and unlocking his smartphone with quick glances and a slide of her thumb.

"The Fuck do you think you're Doing?!" Luent snarls stepping forward and Ranger's gun was up and pointed two handed at him in half a heartbeat.

"I'm a Federal Agent!" Luent screamed face going red.

_He's a dead man walking_, Ranger thought but didn't say. Judging by the look on Fuller's face, he knows this as well.

"Ranger," Tank says still behind him. His second in command and his men, unsure what they're supposed to do in this situation, cops were taking notice of what was going on, several had hands on their weapons and nervous looks unsure if they should draw on Rangemen or run. "Stand down Tank." If his men drew weapons the cops would mirror them, this was not the time for a shootout.

"I could say the same," Tank said.

"Julie—" Agent Fuller started.

"Kid's fucking nuts!" Luent snarled waving his arms around.

"Funny thing about smart phones," Julie said sounding completely calm for an eleven year old holding a gun on a federal agent. Luent took a step forward and her thumb cocked back the hammer on the gun, without lifting her eyes from the phone. "Don't," she said and Luent glanced to Fuller a bit bug eyed for help. "Like I was saying, you can do all kinds of things with them, make phone calls, send texts, play candy-crush,"

"_Julie,_" Ranger said.

"Getting to it," Julie said still fiddling with the damn thing. "You can also do some pretty cool things you can't do with burner phones, like say trace someone's location at the time of a call? You can even set it up to receive text alerts when you've get a bank deposit…"

In his jacket pocket Luent's second phone started screaming again.

Nobody moved. Luent was looking more and more furious and red in the face. "Give me my phone!"

"Interesting." Julie said glancing up.

"What is?!" Luent snarled.

"I have a _gun_ pointed at your head, and what do you ask me for _first_? _The Phone_." Julie's eyebrow rose.

"Huh," Lester commented from his new position beside him.

"Look just put it down before someone gets hurt kid," Fuller said.

"Somebody already got hurt." Julie snapped her eyes flashing to Fuller, going hard and cold. "Stephanie is dead because of this Asshole."

Fuller looked pained. "She was a fugitive, what happened was unfortunate, but she ran…it was an accident."

Julie snorted. Luent's phone beeped in Julie's hand again. She grinned. "Other amazing thing about smart phones, if you link your smart phone to things like say—_your bank account_—" Luent went very still. "Your balance shows up with the touch of a button, no password required." Her eyes flicked to the screen in her hand and then her eyes rose to Luent again.

"I should shoot you right now you miserable fucking son of a bitch." Fuller was reaching for his gun, slowly but still…

"Julie!" Ranger barked he needed to know what the fuck she was doing, _now_. Behind him he could hear Tank and Lester's weight shift. This could not turn into a shootout with two FBI agents in front of the entire Trenton PD.

"The only reason I won't is because a worse fate is waiting for you then a double tap to the face. I know what happens to dirty cops in prison, think fondly of me when someone sticks that blunt edged shiv between your ribs. I hope it hurts like hell, and it's a slow, excruciatingly painful end."

"Jesus," Tank said.

"New balance in your account as of ten minutes ago Agent Luent; two million, five hundred and thirty thousand dollars. Thought you ought to know." She glared at him down the barrel for a moment.

Fuller pulled his weapon out and Ranger tensed finger tightening until his feet shifted as his arm came up to aim his gun at Agent Luent as well.

"Hell of a bonus for an FBI agent, wouldn't you say? Pretty impressive starting balance before tonight too. Let's see _where_ that came from and _when_ shall we? I'm guessing right around November when you picked up this case?"

"Son of a Bitch!" Fuller breathed his eyes darting to Julie. "You can do all that with a smart phone?"

"This is crazy! I don't know what she's talking about!" Luent cried.

"Oh, ten thousand dollars! November 24, 2013 deposit cash! I love when you can categorize these things with a search criteria it's really convenient."

"It's not admissible in court!" Luent snarled, "You don't have a warrant!"

"Wrong answer," Ranger snarled.

"You didn't have it password protected," Julie shrugged, "as far as the law is concerned a cell phone is subject to reasonable search and seizure…so if I handed this phone to Agent Fuller…"

"Can you put the gun down first kid?" Fuller asked his face screwing up, sounding a little pained.

"I'm not going to shoot him on accident." Julie rolled her eyes.

That didn't make anyone feel any better.

"Julie, give me the gun." Ranger stepped forward reaching over his daughter's head with one hand when she didn't protest to slip the gun from her hand, slipping the extra gun into his waistband his own still trained one handed on Agent Luent's body.

"This is all a big misunderstanding!" Luent said raising his hands, palm up towards the two guns facing him expression desperate, eyes wide. "I don't know anything about that money! I'm being set up! I don't know what the Hell she's talking about!"

The phone still in his pocket started ringing again.

"You were the first one on scene—your car sent us into the water when you rammed us! So why was it local cops that pulled me out of the water? You never even got wet." Julie accused.

Everyone else was suddenly staring at Luent's dry suit including the few Trenton Cops who'd moved closer during the face off. "I'm not a strong swimmer, and the other cops arrived before I could go in." Luent snapped eyes flashing, face going a bit red.

"Liar. You didn't even pull your shoes off, or remove your jacket! Admit it; I wasn't supposed to make it out of the car alive either."

The phone in his pocket went silent. Two seconds later it started ringing again.

"Answer it, why don't you. On speaker. I'm sure everyone would love to hear that conversation. What did you say when you answered it the first time? I think it was, _It didn't work out. Don't call me again. _Odd time to take a call, right after you cause a fatal traffic accident _with_ a kid in the car,which you_ shot _at!"

Luent was so enraged he was shaking.

"Guess Ron didn't like that news did he? He's ruining everything for you isn't he? Greedy impatient bastard. All because he couldn't handle the pressure, he cracked knowing what was going down tonight, course four million dollars is a lot of money for a man like Ron. He didn't even know about the second contract did he? Not bad if you can pull it off," Julie said. "Get paid twice for the same job, quite the retirement plan."

Luent's face blanched and his jaw clenched a split second later to cover it up with a dismissing "Fuck. She's insane! You're out of your God damn—" Luent started

"Answer the phone, Eric." Fuller cut him off they stared at each other for a long moment.

"This is ridiculous." Luent retorted hands pressed to his hips mouth twisted in a snarl.

Tank moved another step closer. Lester stepping up on his right. No one else moved the dark lot beside the water every cop and Rangeman suddenly filled with rage. Ranger wasn't sure Luent was even breathing, the way his eyes were rolling around in his panicked head. The phone in his pocket still trilling frantically.

"Answer it or I will," Fuller said his expression grim. Luent pulled the lapel of his jacket open and pulled a cheap plastic flip-open burner phone from the inner pocket. He held it in his hand glaring hotly at Fuller. "Answer it, on speaker. Now." Fuller ordered, "And pray it's your grandmother and not Ron Martine or I might just walk away and let Manoso and the big guy take a few cracks at your skull. Choice is yours, course being a vegetable might be preferable to prison for a dirty agent."

Luent flipped the phone cover back with his thumb and pressed a button on the phone's inner panel.

Heavy breathing could be heard through the line. "How dare you hang up on me! I wanna know what went wrong you little federal prick! I paid you to do one thing, One Fucking Thing! You had one job to get right and you fuck it up!? Christ, government workers are all incompetent! I don't give a Flying Rat's Ass how you fix this but you fix it or you can kiss that money goodbye Luent! There's no pay out if the jobs not done! If I don't get paid, you don't get paid! You're supposed to get rid of the kid, not that fucking bounty hunting bitch! Meddling cunt, she finally pops up and you fuck it all up!? I thought you said you'd done this before?! Useless!

We're running out of time with Manoso home, and don't think you're getting your fucking hands on one cent of the lawsuit money either, as far as I'm concerned you can shove the deal up your ass!" you hear me?" More staggered breathing came through the phone. "Are you there?! If you hung up on me again the way he does, I swear to _Fuck_!"

Fuller appeared to be having trouble containing the snarl on his face. He nodded to Luent his gun now firmly pointed at the other agent's chest. He reached one hand out for the phone and Luent silently passed it over to him. Pressing the mute button for a moment he instructed Luent to cooperate like the God damn law-enforcement agent he was supposed to be. The threat hung unspoken in the air but obvious. Both men well aware if Ranger wanted; Luent would never make it into FBI custody.

Fuller re-pressed the mute button inclining his head to Luent. "I'm here, quit your bitching, shit happens." Luent barked sounding every bit the arrogant asshole he'd been while on the case—some personality traits just came naturally when you were a world class piece of shit.

"Shit happens? _Shit Happens?!_ Not for a _Million Fucking Dollars_ it doesn't! I could have hired someone for half that price and gotten it done but you wanted in! You blackmailing piece of shit, and now you screw me out of everything?! I knew it was a bad idea when you showed up barging your way into my plan! I should have known better! I should have just paid a third party to send the Ransom to fucking Rangeman myself! I should have paid someone to shoot you in the back of the head! Now we've got nothing! No Ransom, No Life-Insurance! And I'm buried up to my ass in Paperwork with all of that Motherfucker's Lawyers! I made promises, I have people waiting for payments! This is all going to come down on your head too! I'm taking you down with me you _useless fuck!_ So you can kiss your career goodbye too! SonofaBitch! You couldn't even get rid of a twelve year old kid for Christ sake! Is there anything you can do right?!"

Fuller's other FBI agents were arriving now, and catching on quick.

Ranger was seeing red, his pulse thundering in his ears like a freight train. The urge to feel bones break under his hands, to twist and feel the satisfying snap of ligaments and muscles torn from sockets overwhelming logic and reason listening to the scratchy disembodied voice through the speaker—no doubt in his mind or anyone else's whom it belonged to despite the distortion and the slur to the words he could feel himself shaking with barely contained rage.

_His Child. His!_

After seeing how far he would go to protect his blood the dumbass Motherfucking excuse for a human being tried to pull this shit?

_This was the person whom Rachael had entrusted to be in her life? As her husband and Julie's 'legal father'?! She'd trusted this cabrón hijo with her safety?_ _No, death was too good_…Ranger seethed.

If he had his way the man would suffer not for hours—but days, weeks even; if he could control himself. He would impart upon him every torture he'd ever heard of or witnessed from every single god-forsaken hell-hole on Earth he'd ever visited. And still it wouldn't be enough.

It would never be enough to replace his Babe…_Stephanie_. It wouldn't even scratch the surface to the pain coming his way. Just thinking her name, seeing her face in his mind's eye brought a wash of agony like no injury he'd ever known. Pain lanced through him like a searing hot knife—sucking the air from his lungs, contracting around his heart until he was certain his ribs would snap and the darkness gnawing and clawing at his insides would consume him whole.

Ranger forced it all to go away. Empty Numbness. That was how he would survive, it was the only way he would survive.

It seemed Ron'd had himself a bit to drink tonight. And already there were witnesses to his mental state… Out of the corner of his eye he saw Hector give a small nod and edge back into the darkness between the SUV's they'd arrived in to make some calls. Hal moving to block his absence from the other agents in a way that seemed he was only shifting his weight to keep a closer eye on Luent and Fuller.

Fuller made a 'wrap this shit up' motion to Luent and the other man complied, handing over the burner phone after the call was ended—hanging up on a probably seething and once again furious Ron. "I think we have enough," Fuller informed the surrounding Agents and Police and Luent was promptly handcuffed cursing up a storm under his breathe, mirandized and shuttled off.

Ranger's eyes flicked to Tank still carrying the spark of rage over the nights events, over hearing the words slurred so casually from another man's lips. _Daring to threaten his flesh and blood_. His inquiry was met with a small barely perceptible shake of the other man's head. Ranger snarled inwardly, but knew his friend was right, even if he hated it.

The important thing was that Ron Martine would never bother them again, he would not survive the night—but it would not be at his hands, as much as he wished it, relished the idea of his revenge, he let it go. Ron would still be a dead man, and Hector would make sure those he sent made him pay—Ranger needed to be with his daughter who's hand he realized was once again clasped tightly around his.

Luent would be lucky to survive the week, if Ranger didn't find a way to kill him Julie was right; he wouldn't survive long in prison. The man who had almost ended his Daughter's life tonight—who was responsible for the death of the only woman he'd ever allowed himself to completely love would suffer and beg for mercy,

And it would _never_ be _enough_.

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**TBC...**


	23. Chapter 23

**Disclaimer:  **I own Anton, I tried trading him to Steph for Ranger and she gave me a stiff middle finger...hunh! .

**Notes:  **Huge thanks to everyone following this and sending replies and PMs in response! Thank you, Thank you!

I was a bit torn on where to take you guys immediately after the last chapter to make the story flow right. I debated and I think this is right. Guess we'll find out huh? :)

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**Chapter Twenty-Three**

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**Ranger's POV**

The return trip to Haywood was a somber affair, silent as a grave, after the mourners have walked away.

Ranger sat in the backseat of the SUV for the return home, Julie beside him—though after her outburst with Luent and his arrest she barely seemed to notice. Tank drove, Lester took shotgun. Julie wouldn't look at any of them, her gaze remained fixed out the darkened window, taking in the passing lights and empty streets the entire drive. In the second SUV Bobby, Hector and Cal followed. The other two teams that originally left Rangeman when the chase began behind them.

They formed a miserable four vehicle long memorial procession, gliding unescorted despite their loss through the early morning darkness still cloaking the desolate, lonely streets of Trenton.

Julie said nothing when they parked in the garage at Haywood. She slid from the backseat of the SUV refusing the offer of Lester's hand when he held the door for her, simply leaping to the concrete on tennis shoes that still gave a squelching squish. Ranger was ahead of them all, already moving toward the elevator as if on auto-pilot lost in a fog, just as silent as the drive had been. Everyone piled into the elevator to ride up, it was a tight fit—an uncomfortable end to a worse night. From here they split—some departing for the apartments on four, the rest on five—only Julie and Ranger rode to the top. And still not a word was said.

Ranger exited the elevator, and unlocked his front door Julie waiting in the center of the otherwise empty hall behind him. He tossed his keys into the silver dish on the sideboard out of habit and Julie stepped in beside him, slipping further into the room while he shut the door and then found himself unsure what the hell to do. She'd been here before not for a long time but the nothing had changed—not in the apartment anyway. Outside it, nothing would ever be the same.

"I have paperwork," Ranger said after a moment, his tone hollow—flat.

Julie stood in the center of the room, stationary as a statue, her backlit features cast in dark shadows from the windows to Trenton's skyline at her back. He hadn't bothered to turn on the lights he realized.

"Paperwork." She said her voice cold, the end of the word bitten off, whip sharp like a slap to his raw nerves. "At 3 am?" The accusation was palpable, coated heavily with a muted outrage.

Silence hung between them, he winced. He was getting this wrong, she was hurting too. He just…Fuck he just needed time to get his Shit together, he wasn't ready for this...

"Yeah, I'll have Ella come up—"

"Forget it." Julie growled cutting him off with a slash of her hand, dismissing him by partially turning her body away to stare out the windows. "I don't need a baby sitter," she hissed.

"Julie—"

"No _Fuck You!"_She roared spinning back on him, waving her arms over her head like she could push him out of her sight, out of her life with the venom in her voice and a flourish from across the room. "Go do your _GodDamn_ Paper Work!" She ordered with another wave of her hand.

She turned on her heel marching through the darkness with tight jerking steps hands clenched to fists at her sides. Five seconds later she slammed the door to his bedroom so hard one of the generic paintings Ella had picked out when his apartment was originally furnished rocked off the wall and crashed to the wooden floor. The glass front of the frame shattered on impact exploding to send broken slivers of glass like tiny sparks across the room.

Ranger felt himself go very still, breathing, waiting. Julie didn't come back out.

Ranger swallowed staring at his bedroom door, torn. Then he turned and went to the kitchen opened up the cabinet over the fridge searching with one hand for the amber bottle that usually migrated to the very back. It was partially hidden, impart from himself, but mainly because if Ella saw it the corners of her lips turned down into a severe look and she spent the next few days scrutinizing him with tense worried eyes he couldn't stand. Ranger could give a shit about that now.

Groping with his fingers for the glass he attempted to fished it out from its elusive spot behind a few travel mugs, knocking one of them over with a clatter, he had to shift a shrink wrapped stack of unopened paper plates, and a crockpot he didn't remember owning. Finally his hand found it his fingers leaving smudges in the faint dust covering its jacket. Still standing in his kitchen with all the lights off in nearly total dark he opened the top staring vacantly at the cap in his palm, the gold paper around its edge crinkled under his fist as he closed his hand tight warring with himself silently, wondering if he cared who won.

Squeezing the tiny metal rim hard enough to indent his palm leaving a circular ring imprinted on the skin of his hand before opening it slowly again, Ranger tilting his thumb up and watching the metallic circle slip off his hand. It pinged and clattered against the ceramic tile floor rolling away to disappear under the bottom cabinet edge.

_Fuck it_, Ranger thought, and tilted the bottle up, the cool mouth of glass against his lips pouring liquid fire over his tongue and down the back of his throat. The harsh fumes burned his nose, singed his sinuses as he took pull after pull hoping to get numb. Half a minute later his stomach revolted, his throat seized up and he choked. Dropping the bottle to the counter coughing and retching into the sink, his body fighting him—reacting harshly to the sharp burn.

Ranger stood leaned against the sink's cold edge sputtering and gasping each sharp painful breath before raising the bottle again. He hadn't even attempted to drink like this since college, years ago—it had only taken a one or two mornings waking up in his dorm room, head splitting open, room destroyed with no recollection of where the fuck he'd been, or what he might have done to learn his lesson. He'd avoided heavy drinking especially with hard liquor ever since—with his temper it seemed the best way to avoid doing something he wouldn't be able to remember enough to regret. After all not remembering beating the ever living shit out of some asshole in a bar didn't mean the douche bag couldn't press charges the next day—assuming he was there was enough of still functioning to call the cops.

Tonight though, he desperately needed to be numb, he didn't want to remember—fuck it would be a blessing to forget she ever existed. He winced and his breathe hissed out.

_Fuck_ where had that come from? That thought hurt just as much as losing her. _Merde, was he really such an unforgivable Dick_? She'd made him a better man while he'd known her…more human—softer in ways he hadn't thought possible, though she'd never known…

_…__would never know._

Ranger dragged his bottle to the sofa with tired steps and slumped into the seat in the dark—despite his claim that he needed to do paperwork he knew nothing would get done, not tonight. Tonight he'd drink until his liver crawled up his throat gave him the finger and walked off, then he'd sit until he was sober enough to lock himself in his office and he'd start his detox—he'd work, he'd work for hours, Hell, probably days. He'd work until he was seeing not just double but triple and Tank was bellowing in his doorway that he wasn't worth shit and to fucking get some sleep. That was the only way he'd keep the feelings at bay. The only way he'd survive.

First he'd drown them, and then he'd exhaust himself to the point of brain damage with mind-numbing grunt work, forsaking all human contact until he managed to block it out, lock it all away. He'd been partially walling off the way he felt about her for years—He could do this, he'd lived through worse, he told himself—it just didn't feel that way.

Time passes, he's not sure how long. It feels like an eternity waiting for the end of the aching throb in his chest to come. It's not yet light outside over half the bottle is gone. The burning protest from his throat every time he takes a pull is long gone, his head feels heavy—dense, and sorta numb. But his chest still feels like it's got a gaping hole ripped through it.

He jerks to his feet without any conscious decision, some deep part of him simply reacting, instantly enraged and out of control the bottle drops to the floor, liquid sloshes in the dark, the coffee table goes airborne; two hands under its edge send it flipping half-way across the room as he jerks to his feet with a roar. It crashes against the wall, another painting hits the floor. Now there's glass and whiskey mixing together on the floor. He stands panting in the dark, hands shaking at his sides, part of him remembering Julie just on the other side of the bedroom door—the darker part of him demanding he destroy some more.

One minute slowly ticks by while he stands hardened as stone, right before he crumples.

His hands aren't the only thing shaking now, the short ragged breathes he's been fighting half the night slowly turning to painful pants for air have now turned to shuddering heaving wheezes. _Fuck._ He squeezes his eyes shut tight. Drops back to the sofa in defeat, head in his hands dragging up over his face toward his hair before closing his fists, clawing at his own palms. He digs his clenched fists into his eyes, trying to drive out the images, the memories, the pain he can't make go away; his whole body is violently shaking with soundless sobs he can't stop. No matter how hard he tries, it's too much.

Ranger claws at his own arms, fingers digging into skin like he can dig the pain out, scrape the away the ache seeping through every vein. The need to destroy things, to smash and rip and break with his bare hands until he's bleeding and bruised hounds at him, he's seeking focus, clarity even if it comes through pain—anything to center his lost soul. Another ragged sob tears through him, this one refuses to go quietly into the night, wracking his entire frame, his head tips back, hands covering his eyes. He leans against the sofa's back and fights his mind, his body overwrought with emotions continuing to shed tears despite his everything he tries to make it stop, to regain and maintain his precious control.

_God if she were alive, if she could see him like this…one look from those piercing deep blue eyes and he wouldn't even need the words, she'd never question how deeply he felt for her again..._

He sits like that for…hell he doesn't know how long. When he finally realizes he's not alone she's already bending over, picking up the nearly empty liquor bottle from the puddle on the floor. She sets it upright without its cap on the wooden boards the bottle's reflection a barely discernible outline in the whisky pond slowly creeping outward still beneath the couch and toward the area rug.

He swipes his palms over the tears on his cheeks hoping she can't see them in the dark.

"So you do care." She whispers it, almost in awe.

_Fuck.__Did she really think that?__How can she think he doesn't care?!_ He stares at her through bloodshot too bright eyes, completely dumbfounded by this realization. _Is he such a cold-hearted Bastard that she thinks him immune to losing someone he loves?_He studies her face, even in the darkness, the wide eyes, her hands trembling at her sides clenching and unclenching with nerves and grief.

_She really doesn't know, _he realizes astounded beyond bolt of pain slices through his chest intense and sharp like a hot serrated knife twisting through his lungs.

_She said she loved him, and he never got a chance to do the same… _

_She died never knowing…_

His face crumples and he lurches forward—bent in half his face hanging over his knees so far forward if his hair was down the ends would be wet from the whiskey lake on his floor. His hands grip the edge of the couch sporadically as great wracking sobs try to work their way up his throat while he bites them back, choking and panting, fighting for calm. His breath hitches and catches in his own throat, refusing to go down without a fight. Tears hit the floor beside his boots, ripple the liquid already on the floor. No matter how hard he squeezes his eyes shut there's always more.

"_Dad_," One small hand lands on his shoulder and he raises his arm, locks his fingers around her tiny wrist and just holds on like a lifeline, something in that small human touch sets him off again. This time the sobs are real, anguished and loud, raw agony as they tear their way out of his chest and throat, there's no stopping them now.

"Dad…please, listen to me," he reaches forward with his other arm, still bent at his waist and drags her closer hugging her waist awkwardly to his shoulder and face.

He's sobbing so hard he can barely make out the words. Her other hand presses to his opposite shoulder, he forces his hands to drop from their embrace pulling them back to the edge of the couch thinking she means to move away.

She kneels on the floor near his head, palms against his knees. "Dad, please, _oh God_, please don't hate me…" even in a whisper her voice cracks.

"Julie, mi tesoro… Cómo podría odiarte? Yo nunca podría, eres la mejor cosa en mi vida…" (my treasure, how could I hate you? I could never, you're the best thing in my life…)

"Pues, por favor, recuerde que después te digo esto..." she hesitates again her eyes drifting away into the dark. (Well, please, remember that after I tell you this…)

_This is already the worst night of his life, and now there's more…he can't imagine what could be worse then what has already happened tonight._

"Nina? What is it, what is wrong? Please do not tell me you are responsible for Stephanie's death…you are not, you must believe that." He reaches for her salt clumped dry strands of hair catching on his hands cradling her face. "I love you mi tesoro, mi nina, mi vida. I should say it every hour, every day; and it would not be enough. I'm sorry, I let you down—I let you both down."

"Dad," She stopped blowing out a breath chewing her bottom lip before meeting his eyes. "Dad, Stephanie's alive."

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**TBC...**


	24. Chapter 24

**Disclaimer:** Not mine, except the story line!

We'll get back to Ranger and Julie but until then, let's jump back to what _really_ happened!

Here we go... XD

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**Chapter Twenty-Four**

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**Stephanie's POV**

There's something ubiquitously terrifying about hanging upside down. It must be built somewhere deep inside our bones, coded into our DNA. _Danger, Warning, Be Afraid! _ Combined with the feeling of falling and you've got yourself a ready-made near heart-attack, even for a normally healthy thirty-something woman.

I generally think of myself as a pretty adventurous gal. I like roller coasters and thrilling drop rides. I've been to many amusement parks in my life and to date have never met a thrill ride I didn't like. Strapped in, hands thrown in the air, screaming foolishly at the top of your lungs with the next idiot beside you—your tummy tickles, your skin prickles with the thrill, and you tell yourself; this is danger, wow danger is fun! Strapped into a tested and certified ride, you scream your lungs out and tell yourself: look how scary this is! You're so brave to face it head on!

The truth is it isn't dangerous, or scary. It's contained and safe. It's not _really_ fear your feeling up there, it's exhilaration from the speed maybe, the wind in your hair, the adrenaline high of the scream distorting your face 'til your cheeks hurt and your eyes water. It's anticipation for the next hill—you look forward to it, can't wait to do it again…

This was _none_ of those things. This was a very different kind of ride. We weren't safe; all our planning and calculating and still a million things could go wrong. No one in their right mind walks away from a car accident saying: _Gee that was awesome! When can I do that again?_

We both screamed. I threw myself as best I could over Julie protectively—so mostly just my arms made it over Julie's head and we crashed down. The 5 point harness was biting into my shoulders the whole time; fighting gravity and my weight—straining against the breathtaking velocity of our fall.

I can't describe the sound when we splashed down—maybe I blacked out a little bit, maybe it was just too much for my brain to process completely. It was like being inside a glass windowed cannon ball. Almost immediately the car bobbed violent and hard, jerking back up from its partial flip ass end tilting up, then we tipped, trying to decide in a battle of physics; air versus metal—which part of us wanted to sink _first._

Whatever Anton had stuck in the trunk under the Audi's front hood must have been enough to give the engine a run for its money because physics couldn't decide. The Audi pitched off its roof—listed into a hard roll made it half onto its side and then simply went DOWN. The battle took about half a minute; inside it felt like seconds—it felt like hours, it felt like death swallowing us whole while gurgling and laughing about it.

Darkness closed over Julie's window—the highest now in our little submarine. Water swirled and bubbled and I quickly realized my shoes and my left hip were very wet. Something hairy tickled my forearm and I screamed and jerked my hand up fast enough to punch the ceiling. I staring wide eyed at the blonde monster wedged in the door space before it clicked_. _My wig.

_Jeeze, get it together Stephanie!_

"You alive?" Julie said like we hadn't just screamed together and she hadn't watch me try to escape inanimate hair with the same gusto I usually reserved for giant tropical banana spiders.

"I'm alive," _and quickly getting wet,_ I didn't add because _hello, Captain Obvious!_

The water had to be a good forty feet deep where we'd crashed down partially beneath the bridge.

"Backpack," I said and Julie unzipped the front pocket with surprisingly steady hands. She handed me a pair of diver's goggles that would cover my eyes and nose and thanks to the previous wig and resulting French braid hopefully not get tangled hopelessly in my hair. Around us the car continued to sink at an enthusiastic rate; swirling dark murky water and air bubbles squiggled up the glass all around us like the Adam's family version of a Lava Lamp.

Outside the car was only getting darker the farther we sank. It was dark above the water tonight, under it was something else entirely. It was _beyond_ dark, it made it difficult to believe there'd ever been light at all, _anywhere_. I felt myself breathing a bit faster staring out at it and Julie noticed.

"You going to be able to do this without getting lost?" She asked staring out at the murky blackness that made seeing ten feet beyond the hood of our sinking car difficult.

I nodded slowly, I didn't have much choice. It wasn't like I could just pop out of the water with Julie in front of Luent and be like, '_Just kidding! Don't shoot!_'

Julie undid her harness and I did the same, we stretched our leg muscles and arms best we could in the tiny space and Julie handed over the backpack. I reached inside the main pocket pulling out two air hoses with mouthpieces attached to them. The water was now up to my knees squatted awkwardly on the glass driver side window with Julie half standing on the dash and window beside me. I grabbed the glass breaking hammer tool usually attached to the key chains of nervous nellies from the front pocket, slipped the backpack over my shoulders attaching the waist strap under my ribs and Julie turned so her back was to my front. She took the mouth piece I offered her and looped one arm through mine, elbow to elbow. I handed her the tiny hammer tool with my other hand and put my own mouthpiece in my mouth biting it much harder than necessary with my teeth.

I sucked in a breath through my mouth that tasted like rubber and stale air. I signaled with a thumbs in front of Julie and watched her shoulders rise and fall in an obvious inhale. Thumbs up. I wrapped my free arm around Julie's waist and she raised the hammer to the window over our heads. It shouldn't take much with the weight already pressing down on it…

_Shit._ I clenched the mouth piece in my jaw and tightened my arms on Julie and she swung her arm up and there was a split second ear-splitting _Crack!_ and then water. So _much_ water. It poured in, a wall of it that knocked both our bodies into the dashboard, I'd no doubt I'd have a huge bruise on my thigh from the steering wheel in the morning, and then I smacked my ass against the roof of the car, and stopped keeping track of what would be black and blue tomorrow—it wasn't worth it. It was like being a _pinball_.

I didn't let go of Julie, holding on to her for dear life with both hands. She had one hand pressed to her face—holding the mouthpiece in place against the torrent of water crashing over our heads. I turned my face down while it felt like the entire ocean caved in on our heads trying to smash us like tin cans. And it was Cold. God so cold. I felt Julie shudder—but it could have been from the force of the water knocking us around and then just like that, it stopped.

After the violent torrent of water the shock of just floating was a bit hard to grasp. I blinked behind the mask, Julie's hair floated around her head like a tangle of black seaweed. She couldn't see anything now. Her eyes were firmly closed to protect them from the salt. This was going to be harder with her blind, and I could only imagine how much more terrifying everything felt in the dark, but might look odd if Julie popped out of the water in a supposed _accidental_ crash with swim goggles on. Yeah even the Jul-ster; brilliant mastermind that she was might have trouble imagining an explanation for that!

I found Julie's hand with mine—it was easy since I could see and gave it a squeeze, she squeezed back once. The signal clear,

_Okay?_

_Okay._

I held onto Julie with one arm still around her waist and we slowly floated our way up, Julie's body pressed against mine since we had to share a tank and she couldn't see. We made it out of the car pretty easily the side window had shattered completely and in the tiny bit of light available I could see little glittering bits of glass inside the Audi. Once outside the car I hesitated. I didn't know exactly how long behind Luent's SUV the other Trenton cops had been. I need to make sure there were witnesses present—witnesses with badges before I sent Julie to the surface again, and since I personally knew all the Trenton cops I doubted very much they'd simply wait around on the shore to see someone pop up.

I squeezed Julie's hand once again in question, _Still Okay, she _squeezed back.

My ears were starting to feel like they needed to pop. I tried to swallow around the rubber block in my mouth. Cold darkness pressed around me. My jeans clinging to my legs, the boot cut hems swishing around my ankles like distorted fins with every slow kick designed to keep us in place. Julie's hand was clutched around the arm I had wrapped around her waist—the only outward sign that the pressing cold and blindness bothered her even a little bit. The rest of her seemed remarkably calm, her other arm making slow passes through the water around us, trying to keep us in place against the pulling current already moving us ten feet from the bottomed out car, even this close to the shore the outward tidal pull of the ocean beckoned us, it would make my next mission easier at least—but I needed to keep blind Julie close to the shore or she might never be found.

Then above our heads I saw bodies, the dark outlines of pant legs swimming over us, too many for just Agent Luent, the flash of a silver shield badge caught the moonlight near the surface, or possibly a flashlight. I grabbed Julie's hand, squeezed it three times; _I love you._ She squeezed back four; _I love you too._ She took a deep, deep breath and dropped the mouthpiece and I shoved her up with both arms towards their waiting arms, I couldn't wait even a moment to see her swim. I turned tail and swam with the strong current out away from the direction the cops had come from sticking within sight of the sandy bottom to have some idea of where I was from the surface.

It wasn't hard to follow the pull of the water if I stopped kicking for even a minute I could feel it pulling me, so for a while I simply swam, counting my inhales and exhales slowly. It would be all too easy to start hyperventilating alone in the complete darkness, trying not to imagine things just beyond my line of sight watching me in the dark. _Gah_! I was also freezing, every inch of skin coated with goosebumps—my nipples were so puckered they hurt.

_Ugh. __Why couldn't we fake my underwater death someplace warm, like Miami? __Or the Caribbean? __Hell, then I could have strolled up on the beach and ordered one of those fruity drinks with a tiny umbrella!_

After what felt like miles in the darkness I slowly shifted my swimming more towards the surface, that felt like it took eons too but I needed to get my bearings at least somewhat. I had to know I was going in the right direction, or Anton could never pick me up.

I surfaced what looked like three hundred feet from shore. I could see flashing lights at least a half a mile upstream—no more than tiny zipping blue dots. I treaded water for a moment, pulling the mouthpiece from my teeth to stretch my lips with some exaggerated jaw movements. Then I put it back and dived just barely under the surface again swimming harder, not racing exactly just steady like a lap pool. Stroke, stroke, kick, kick, stroke, stroke, it felt like an eternity. I felt myself growing tired even with all the exercising I now did, my arms ached and my legs felt like jelly so I rose to the surface and just floated letting the current carry me for a few minutes, resting while I could.

I could barely make out the flashing blue lights when I turned now, but it was difficult to really tell in the pitch dark how far I'd come. I could see ahead of me the bright towering lights of the Casino's and hotels following the beach all the way down to Point Pleasant. I started swimming again, dropping the mouthpiece to trail behind me, breast stroking across the surface where the current felt stronger, visible even in the darkness. At least on the water I had some kind of visual reference—and I doubted very much they'd be looking for me this far away already. It would probably take close to an hour to even get divers to search the wreckage under the bridge. I kicked and stoked and spit briny ick from my mouth when a slightly higher wave caught me in the mouth by surprise. _Yuck._

_Fish poop water. _I was going to need a tetanus shot.

I have no idea how long it took but eventually the hotel's grew larger, and I noticed a boat moving up the river. I started to reach behind me in the water for my mouthpiece and realized it was blasting Latin Samba music from the deck.

Not the coast guard, or the police either. _Anton_.

I watched the boat move closer and forced my jelly legs to tread water while I raised both arms above the surface hitting the button on the side of my watch to light up the face and waving it around to get his attention, The quiet rumble of the boat's engine immediately shut off and the boat slowed even though it hadn't been going that fast to begin with—just faster than my swimming crawl.

I started swimming toward it again, more tired now suddenly that the end was in sight. The boat drifted slightly sideways as I approached after a slight tap of power from the engine turned the boat and I could finally make out Anton's shadow moving atop the deck.

He hopped down from the top where he'd been driving and waved his arms for me to make my way to the back of the boat. I hadn't realized just how exhausted I was until now, it hit me like a freight train and I half wondered if I might actually drown ten feet from Anton's boat and if he'd sit there and watch me or jump in and drag me out.

Probably best not to find out.

I was grunting with the effort, shaking with more than just cold by the time I wrapped one hand around the ladder at the back of the boat. I tried to pull myself up and found I weighed a ton. I rested my forehead against my arm gasping for air and Anton reached down gripped the backpack's shoulder straps and hauled me the rest of the way up the ladder so fast it took me a second to figure out what the hell was going on. When my feet found the deck my knees gave out and I would have collapsed onto my ass—or back off the boat's end if Anton hadn't looped one arm around my waist completely ignoring the fact that I was soaking wet.

I was pretty sure he was copping a feel as he unhooked the backpack and shoved the straps down my arms removing the heavy weight threatening to topple me over backwards to the deck; but I was so cold and exhausted and out of breath I didn't care. I just leaned into him—truthfully he was pretty much holding all my weight up at this point, but I couldn't find the strength to be embarrassed by that at the moment. Turns out faking my own death took a lot out of me and my 'give a fuck' meter was sorta broken.

"You are truly amazing Querida," Anton said suddenly, his hot breath startlingly close to my ear. "Seasoned Seals would have trouble making such a swim alone, especially at night without proper gear—" and if I didn't know any better I'd swear that had been an _honest_ to _God_ compliment. _From Anton?!_ I _must_ be delirious, or maybe I'd passed out and hit my head on the deck and was imagining this... I tipped my chin up to look for sarcasm or teasing in his face, and found I couldn't read much of anything between downward tilt of his head and the lack of light surrounding us. One of Anton's hands rose and I felt him slide the back of one finger along the edge of my jaw from ear to chin. I blinked, too stunned to form words.

"I am finding, Querida, that I like the idea of returning you to him, less and less in moments like this." My half-frozen, weary brain stumbled over _that_, trying to decide if I should be intrigued, confused, or insulted over the idea of being traded around like a collector's card.

I had about a split second to wonder, _What the Hell? _ before it seemed like Anton was leaning into me slowly and I thought _uh oh, I think I know where this is going! _and then my whole body decided to halt any further investigation into the bizarre by throwing out a full body shudder so hard my knees buckled the rest of the way and I caught my chin on Anton's chest hard enough to bite my tongue. I would have ended up on my ass except I felt Anton's grasp tighten around my lower back again, his other arm wrapping around me as well while I clutched weakly at his arms. "You're freezing, Querida."

_No, really?__Nice of him to notice!_

"Go below, warm up—change it will take us almost an hour to reach New York."

I honestly wasn't sure I could walk. My legs felt like rubber glue, silly string…or maybe grape jelly…

Anton snorted and bent to scoop me up off the deck without another word. I tried to protest but my teeth were chattering so damn hard every time I unlocked my jaw to speak that only wordless frustrated sound came out, which Anton ignored.

He had to walk sideways to get me down the narrow stairway without whacking my legs or my head—not that I thought I'd feel either at the moment I was so numb. Anton set me down on the edge of a small bed and I wrapped my arms around myself and chattered and shivered while he left the room. He didn't go back on deck as I expected—instead he opened a narrow white door with slightly rounded off edges lined with the same weather stripping you'd find on external doors and window seams.

The inside of the room I could see was off white and tan—I realized it was part of a counter, and a sink. A bathroom maybe? _I didn't think I wanted anymore water right now—I'd had enough to last me a life time, thank you very much._

He instructed me to stand up when he came back out and I shook my head _no_. He paused for a moment, hands on hips the expression on his face much more like the Anton I knew. Which was good; whatever mess that was up on deck could shove it—I didn't have the time or brainpower to deal with anymore complications. Besides which, I thought Anton had said he _didn't_ want Ranger to kill him...call me crazy but personally I didn't think what might have happened on deck was the way to do it.

Anton moved toward me stopping when his legs brushed my wet jeans. "Strip," He said.

I tried to scowl but my face felt numb, and I'm pretty sure I just looked constipated or confused. "Fuuuuck…yo..o..ou" I chattered back at him and managed a shaky hand gesture to go with it. _There, that should get my point across._

"Afraid I'll see Manoso's name on your underwear again?" The asshole grinned down at me his eyes damn near twinkling with mirth.

"I'mm not-t-t getting nak-k-kid in fron—"

"Oh Hell," Anton said and grabbed my shirt hem and yanked it up, and off. He tossed it unceremoniously to the floor somewhere to his right.

"HEY!" I snarled.

"That's better," He said, sounding smug.

"As-ss-hole,"

"Come on, get up," he didn't wait for me to argue simply hauled me up by my elbows and grabbed the front of my jeans. I wanted to slap his hands away but I didn't feel all that coordinated right now and I could hear a shower running in what had to be the bathroom and steam was curling out the open door _and yes…that actually sounded really good._

My jeans were off, I got tangled up with my sneakers though and Anton sighed in frustration and sat me down again—which was probably good because my legs weren't doing so well with the whole holding-me-up-thing.

Anton yanked my shoes off and tossed those away and then peeled socks off very white and pale blue looking feet. He grabbed the edge of my jeans trapped around my calves and yanked those off the rest hard enough I almost slipped off the bed landing on the carpet on my ass but Anton stopped me with one hand on my stomach holding me in place the other working the wet denim off the rest of the way simply dropping them where they lay.

"Up." He commanded and I thought maybe he should say _please_, since I wasn't a dog, but he didn't he just hauled me up and half dragged-half carried me to the bathroom and opening a frosted glass door before shoving me—underwear and all under the hot water.

I screamed when it hit my skin certain I was boiling alive from the pain and slammed backwards into the wall hard enough to rattle my teeth in my head trying to get away from the scorching spray. Anton cursed and reached in and turned the water down a little and then grabbed my upper arm in a vice grip and yanked me back under the searing heat ignoring my weakened protesting, "Nooo!" I thrashed and twisted in his grasp.

_I didn't want to be cooked alive, I wasn't a lobster!_

I tried to bat his hands away from me splashing and slipping on the slick plastic shower floor and ended up with a very pissed off and wet Latin glaring at me over a soaked t-shirt, drops of water sliding down his face to drip from his chin.

"Querida," he hissed eyes flashing in warning, "it's barely warm! Stop it, o juro por Cristo! I'll strip you the rest of the way, get in there and hold you under myself!" (I swear to Christ!)

I stared at his muscled chest and perfectly defined arms under that wet shirt and the dark eyes above that and swallowed hard, that would be…_not good_, _very, very_ _not good,_ I told myself. I lifted my chin and tried to glare at him, which was difficult when the water Anton swore was only lukewarm felt like it was boiling off my toes forcing me to wince, and I was still shivering so hard my knees wouldn't lock giving me a wobbly kind of list from side to side, and _of course_, my nipples were completely visible through this bra!

"You're just trying to find an excuse to shower with me," I accused him but it lacked the scathing tone needed to make the sentence work the way it should. "Pervert." I added after a beat still eyeballing him standing there arms crossed over his chest now and Anton's lips quirked north.

"I'll be upstairs," Anton said his eyes flicked over me from head to toe, "steering the boat." He added pantomiming something that looked more like jacking-off then turning a wheel. I narrowed my eyes and made a disgusted noise at him and he shut the glass shower door. "You have about ten minutes of warm water, use it well," he called to me then he shut the bathroom door.

Several minutes later I felt the whole room and rumble softly and had to brace my palms against the shower walls as I felt the boat start up and beginning to turn.

Somehow in that moment, alone in a lukewarm shower, my cold toes and fingertips on fire it hit me. _It worked_. Julie was safely back with Ranger, Luent was ousted, and Stephanie Plum was dead. Not just figuratively either; by tomorrow morning it would be in every Trenton paper, but it was more than that I realized.

Stephanie Plum was dead. No more Bombshell bounty hunter, No more 'Burg failure to settle down…

Everything I'd ever believed about myself or been told over and over again was _wrong_. Every limitation I'd ever placed on myself, or had thrust upon me by others I'd disproved. Everything I thought I could or couldn't do was wrong! I slide down the shower wall to sit down on the shower floor and stared at the wall, a small smile slowly spreading across my face.

For the first time in years I felt _free._

Sitting half naked and wet on a boathouse shower floor, for the first time since I was a kid, I felt like I was flying.

It was glorious, exhilarating, uplifting…

I could be anyone I wanted to be.

_No one could stop me._

_Wonder Woman, Here I come!_

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**TBC...**


	25. Chapter 25

**Disclaimer:** Not mine, Dangnabbit! But I did save enough in my piggy bank to buy the next book, does that count? :P

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**Notes:** HolyHector! (I couldn't resist LOL) 700+ reviews? you guys are amazing! Short chapter this morning, but I hope it flows well, I'm working on Steph's next bit here... might go up tonight or tomorrow. We'll see how long it takes to get right! :)

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**Chapter Twenty-Five**

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**Ranger's POV**

_(previously…)_

_ "Julie, mi tesoro…__ Cómo podría odiarte? Yo nunca podría, eres la mejor cosa en mi vida…" __(my treasure, how could I hate you? I could never, you're the best thing in my life…)_

_"Pues, por favor, recuerde que después te digo esto..." she hesitates again her eyes drifting away into the dark. (Well, please, remember that after I tell you this…)_

_This is already the worst night of his life, and now there's more…he can't imagine what could be worse then what has already happened tonight. _

_"Nina? What is it, what is wrong? Please do not tell me you are responsible for Stephanie's death…you are not, you must believe that." He reaches for her salt clumped dry strands of hair catching on his hands cradling her face. "I love you mi tesoro, mi nina, mi vida. I should say it every hour, every day; and it would not be enough. I'm sorry, I let you down—I let you both down."_

_"Dad," She stopped blowing out a breath chewing her bottom lip before meeting his eyes. _

_"Dad, Stephanie's alive."_

It took him a full thirty seconds to process the words. He sat frozen in shock, still as stone, his heart racing in his chest, pulse hammering in his ears wondering if he'd imagined them. Staring at his blank face, expression growing more worried Julie continued. "Dad…_I'm sorry_, you promised not to hate me, we planned the whole chase; all the way to the bridge—we had to make it believable. I couldn't tell you anything, people were watching and if they find out too soon that Ste—"

The name morphs into a startled squeak when his arms wrap around her again, yanking her forward up off the floor in front of him and into his lap. He hugs her firmly his embrace so tight for a brief moment all she can do is wheeze and gasp struggling against the iron grip of his arms before he tempers his hold she can just barely breathe again,. "—_Dad_, Dad! Auhgk, you're crushing me!" He softens his grip again still without letting her go his forehead pressed to her back his body shaking again.

"Dad…God, I'm so sorry, please…"

She trails off the sound he's making registering slowly in her brain. She twists, blinks, gaping at him in the near blackness of the room so far from the windows. She takes in the shake of his shoulders, the vibrations coming off of him in continuous waves, her mind telling her exhausted and over-taxed thought process that whatever she thinks she's seeing is wrong, this _can't_ be right. It can't be real. Just, _No._

He releases his hold on her completely just as suddenly as he snatched her up, flopping sideway into the armrest of the couch like his spine has given out, his hands raised to cover his face and his shaking only gets _worse_. He's practically convulsing against the side of the couch writhing and twisting, one heavy booted foot kicking at the floor hard enough to splash Whiskey farther around the house.

Julie slides farther into the cushion seat beside him, turning to watch in growing disbelief; of all the things she's seen in her lifetime this might be the craziest. Scratch that, this is _insane_.

It _looks_ like Ranger is _laughing_.

Not just laughing, Julie changes her assessment a moment later, he's _completely_ losing it.

She blinks. And a moment later there's no doubt when his hands fall away from his face to lie at his side and another bark of laughter bursts from his mouth, loud and hoarse and undeniable as anything else. His eyes are squeezed shut, whole body quaking and what looks like tears sliding out to cover his cheeks.

It's the most surreal thing she's ever seen in her life_, her Dad_, the _Big Bad Man in Black,_ Trenton's Biggest Baddass is laughing himself to the point of tears with great whooping outbursts that he cant seem to stop.

She lifts one hand between them tentatively; uncertain if she should risk breaking this bizarre spell enthralling him before she moves forward poking him in the shoulder with one finger on her hand trying to making sure this is real. If he notices her prodding he says nothing, if anything her movement only sets him to laughing _harder_, if that's possible, she's already waiting for the top of his head to come off. Julie's abruptly struck wondering if he needs medication or some sort of intervention, and how exactly she'd explain this...

She sits in shock just taking it in, trying to decide if she should call Tank or Hell maybe an ambulance, and how upset is Stephanie's going to be when she finds out Julie's last plan broke Batman? "Uh, Dad?" She ventures hoping for some kind of response she can understand. She'd thought about how he might react many times when they were planning this; but this had certainly never been what she'd expected!

Ranger pushes up from the sofa's armrest wrapping her in a breath-halting bear-hug once again the laughter is still there, his chest shakes with it but he manages to squeeze words out now around the sudden uncharacteristic merriment still making him wheeze. "Mi Nina, mi Tesoro, she is alive?"

"Yes," His daughter is staring at him more wide eyed then she was even in the parking lot. This sets him off rumbling again, great big heaving belly laughs that move both of them.

"Why is that _Funny?_!" Julie says a small niggle of annoyance creeping into her tone again.

"Juro, ustedes dos será la muerte de mí ..." he manages to gasp out. (I swear, you two will be the death of me…)

Julie huffs glaring at him exactly the way Stephanie would which merely sets the whole process off again. She finally gets up from the couch leaving him collapsed against the seat cushions fighting for air with panting gasps before snorting and flying off the handle again.

She moves into the kitchen banging around opening cabinets and closing them again, finally finding what she seeks. The faucet over the sink turns on for a few moments and then she's moving to stand in front of him again, a glass of water in her hand. "Drink this, you're going to give yourself an aneurism." She says offering him the glass.

Ranger takes it, still gasping, his hands shaking slightly, he feels like his head is going to burst. His chest feels like a superheated over inflated balloon—too full but not painful, not this time it's the best feeling in the world. The relief of Julie's words is still pouring through him. He feels giddy as a kid at Christmas, flooded with relief so concentrated and intense the endorphin rush is like being high. The heavy amount of alcohol in his veins probably not doing much to help him maintain a level thought process about this entire day.

"Nina, sit with me." She does curling her legs up under her on the sofa cushion to avoid the puddle still coating his floor. He'll clean it up later, right now he could give a shit. He reaches to the side one arm coming up to the end table beside the couch flicking on the lamp there. They both squint and blink painfully at the sudden light despite the normally soft glow of the watt. He pulls the envelope from the side table setting it in his lap and pulling back the flap—if she recognizes it she doesn't say anything at first. Not until he's pulled the photos out and handed her half. He sets the envelope back down, sliding it half between the edge cushion and the armrest so it's not in danger of falling down, ruining it's precious contents with the Whiskey soaking into his floor.

"You have our photos?" She asks staring at him, her face pale from stress, emotion and now most certainly a lack of sleep.

"Si, mi Corazón. Tell me about them."

Her eyes flick to the top photo on the stacked in her hand. "What do you want to know?" He slides his arm around her shoulders tucking her into his side and pressing his lips to the top of her head briefly before resting his cheek against her hair. "I want to know where you were, what was said—I wish I could have been with you mi Tesoro, this is the next best thing."

"You're not going to ask me where Stephanie is?"

He doesn't lift his head, "Are you going to tell me mi Nina?"

"No," Julie said slowly shaking her head slowly, not enough dislodge his cheek. "I can't, not yet."

Ranger waved one hand in a small gesture before them like he'd expected this. "Then tell me about your trip. What is this picture here?"

"You haven't looked at them?"

"I have, Nina several times—I want to _hear_ about them now,"

Julie's eyes drop to the photo in her hands. "Escambron beach, in San Juan." The photo of them both wearing bikini's and smiling on the beach with oversized Jersey-style sunglasses had been taken by a fellow 'tourist'. She flips the deck to the next photo explaining, "This was the day we hiked to San Cristóbal Canyon, there's this beautiful waterfall Its so big, almost as tall as this building. We stopped to rest and I was sitting down on the edge of the trail and we see this sign," she grins the sign clearly in the photo next to where she's sitting stating '_Stay off the rocks'_ in Spanish—and her expression and raised arms clearly stating '_Who me?_' to the lens. "and Stephanie starts laughing…instead of telling me to get down, she took this." She flips to the next one telling him all about the day that goes with each one and how the photo came about.

The sun is well up by the time they start on the second half of the stack waiting in the envelope, Julie's head now leaned against his chest her eyes drooping closed, her breathing slow and even her sleep slurred words against his shirt coming slower and slower until she stops responding. He shuffles through a few more of the bright colorful happy portraits in his hands, his thumb sliding reverently over the last photo in the stack, Julie standing on a beach—Stephanie behind her in sunglasses and a straw cowboy hat her arms wrapped around Julie's shoulders, his daughters arms thrown wide encompassing the beautiful beach, the sunset over the rocks behind them her grin so wide it makes his own lips twitch.

It's almost ten am when he sets the photos down, scooping her sleeping form from the couch and carrying her back into his bedroom. This afternoon he'll have to clear out his office—move his desk and get her room set up, he'll have Ella hang curtains over the glass in the French doors until they can be replaced with something more appropriate, until then he'll take the couch. She doesn't' stir when he sets her down, her eyelids barely flutter completely exhausted and dead to the world as only a child can be.

He quietly shuts the bedroom door behind him. Retrieves hand towels from the kitchen and sops up the mess his bottle upended onto the living room floor. He rinses the most of the pungent smell of whiskey from the clothes before wringing them dry and leaving them in the sink for Ella to find later. Next he sweeps up the glass scattered around the room, careful to move the sofa and the chair and roll up the high pile area rug shoving it into the corner to clean later-he'd hate for Julie to awaken and tread barefoot out of his bedroom and cut her feet.

By eleven he's polished off two cups of water and a sandwich before falling asleep stretched out on the living room couch his boot still on the last photo of the beach in his hand, pressed over his heart. His watch set to wake him in two hours so he can return to five where his men are no doubt morning her loss. He'll tell them his news, wait while they rejoice then tell them to it keep quiet and they'll start their searching again.

Julie might not be ready to tell him, his girls have made their plans. Now Ranger's making some of his own.

He's bringing his Babe _home_.

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**TBC...**


	26. Chapter 26

**Disclaimer: ** Anton is mine, He probably wishes Steph was his...but Ranger will kill him so he better not get any funny ideas, I need him for the rest of this story... D:

**Notes: ** So many thanks to go out! You guys are amazing! Thanks to RangerFanatic, Margaret aka whymelucylu, Stephannie1014, west islander, guest, jbspencer06, Sliver of Melody, shellbell78, Fanfictionstalker, fictionlover4, Anonymous, erdi99, AParker13, Jraice, Selene Aduial, jules3677, FourReasons, musereflective, Lurker, Guest, DebK, MnGrammaX3, First Generation Scot, Hazy101, BookAddictinFla, the newest daughter, trhodes9, brgrgmpy, Carol145, Liz1969, Action, Quilter Girl, RhoJ, jwarden, mjsmama, Barb4psu, Margaret, CherryWolf713, Elkniw73, daxandpat, Anonymous, JeanieJ, Guest, resteazyluv, babesrus2, Sraines, Meyzen, snazzieshazzie, guest, emmme3, jkgk, purple22464, jackattack1, Judi, carrotmusic, guest, jaxg, Cara245, johnsmom, Silver Cranes, bkc04, spiffytgm, BookWorm9892, MargaritaS, .50999, KLpuppies21, barbh, Eileenapr, molly9429, Babe993, Shelly222, Lundyred, Melyons

and anyone else I accidently missed to Chapter 22!

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**Chapter Twenty-Six**

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**Chapter Twenty-Six**

**Stephanie's POV**

It had to be past noon, or just before it by the time I woke judging by the quality of clear bright light filtering through my still closed eyelids. I blinked a few times disoriented and trying to recall where the hell I was; we'd changed location so many times over the last few months that the sensation was no longer un-nerving—Hell it had become almost normal. A little morning brain puzzle before you even climbed out of bed. I couldn't recall the last time I'd woken up someplace this nice though—even before this mess, in fact, maybe not ever.

I lay in bed staring bleary eyed up at the wide oval cut out in the expansive ceiling suspended over my head. I blinked a few times studying the fancy scroll work inlaid around its edge, and the heavily crystal laden chandelier in its center suspended within its own fancy scroll work disk. I frowned, probably not the reaction the designer was going for.

It looked like the kind of ceiling that should be adorned with pink hued fluffy clouds fresco and populated by sweet cheeked, bare bottomed cherubs playing harps and flitting around their oval sky, it looked like it belonged in Rome, or Greece or…hell somewhere other than hanging over my head because I didn't wake up in places this nice!

I hadn't noticed any of this the night before. Hell I'd been so exhausted I'd barely registered that I still had feet—I'd thrown myself into a second shower, which I vaguely remember being very white with lots of shiny modern steel, and gloriously hot and then I'd draped myself in a robe I found folded into an impressive fluffy square that rivaled the size of my pillow back in my old jersey apartment, once upon a time. The elaborately fluffy thing was embroidered with the hotel's name on the breast pocket, though I can't recall it now some kind of land mass… I thought about asking who's rob it was for a few seconds but since they'd left it sitting on the marble countertop in _my_ bathroom I'd assumed it was for me, and I didn't have anything else to wear anyway so I'd slipped it on and belted it in a knot before falling into a bed I that was nice and heavenly soft.

I'd thought at the time it was only because I was so tired. I probably could have passed out lying on top of a rock and been grateful—turns out I was wrong. I was laying on a king sized bed in no doubt 1000+ thread count sheets under a puffy overstuffed off-white goose feather down throw that cradled my sleepy body like a weightless cloud.

_It was like waking up in Ranger's heavenly bed…minus the fairytale ceiling. Among other things, like one mocha latte skinned naked Ranger…_

_God._

_Ranger._

Pain and guilt stabbed through my chest at that thought. By now he had to know what I'd done, how we'd tricked him. I hoped to God he understood why it was necessary and he didn't hate me. Of all the things I'd done the last few months that alone I didn't think I could live with. I prayed I wasn't going to find myself packed into a wooden crate the next time we met and shipped off to Uzbekistan or Kazakhstan or Hell some other country I couldn't pronounce, let alone locate on a map that ended in 'Stan'!

I rolled to my side and the fluffy cloud comforter followed me, pulled by my hip. I sat up and shoved it away, pulling the bathrobe I'd slept in back up my shoulder so it no longer exposed half my arm and left boob. At least there was no one here to witness _that_, I blushed. I'd gotten so used to sleeping beside Julie since Anton started showing up it was odd, and strangely lonely to wake alone.

I pushed myself to the edge of the bed and found someone—I refused to think about _who, _had left matching white fluffy overstuffed slippers on the floor beside the bed. I preferring to pretended they'd been there since last night and I'd failed to notice them in my exhausted state just like I'd overlooked everything else. I slipped them on partially surprised they fit like they were made for my feet then I tightened the edges of my robe, double knotting the belt—just in case Anton was hanging around behind a half closed door or something to spring out and force me into practicing one of those judo-move-things.

I didn't think he would honestly, he'd tried it once before I'd had my coffee and it hadn't been pretty, he'd cursed up a storm rolling around on the floor red in the face for almost ten minutes and then the big baby had limped for days. I made for the door to my room cautiously just the same, keeping my eye out for shadows that moved too quick to be natural or anything else waiting to grab me.

I tried not to be impressed by the size of the suite as I moved through it—but it was difficult. I pushed through the bedroom door into a sitting area tastefully decorated in whites and muted greys. No shabby gaudy hotel styling's here. This was high class, a touch of old world while still hitting modern and just _Wow. _I had barely noticed the hotel's name or much about the lobby after last night and being awake for close to 48 hours, I'd known it was nice, glamourous even, but _Good, God! _

_What the Hell was Anton thinking?! _

_ I was supposed to be dead; I hadn't expected to wake up in heaven! _I scowled, and even that seemed like an effort in such a nice room. There was a gentle rap on the main door and I froze unsure where I'd left my gun. Then I remembered suddenly feeling vulnerable, _Shit, I didn't have a gun_; I hadn't been able to get it through security at the airport—_Anton had my gun. So, where the hell was Anton?!_

_Not here, obviously and I_'d never seen him knock on the door. I sucked in a tight breath told myself police officers didn't politely knock when they came to arrest you for child kidnapping and plotting your own murder, and moved to the door. I glanced through the peep hole and found a hotel employee in a pressed black suit on the other side, the kind that actually has those ridiculous gold buttons down the front—and a hat on his head. Only_ 'hat' _wasn't the right word—it was one of those bell hoppy straight-sided bowl things they wear only in the movies—and I was certain it had its own name, I just wasn't cultured enough to know what the hell it was!

My head was spinning in confusion at the bizarreness that was my life when I cracked open the door.

He blinked at me through the two inch crack. And I blinked back. No one moved for a moment, his eyes flitted down to the small gap in the neck of my robe and he flushed bright pink and stammered. "Ah…Apologies Mrs. Paretti," He oozed I didn't even bat an eye at the name I'd never heard before, my life is strange these days.

"Your husband left instructions to bring you breakfast at noon,"

_SO many things about that sentence were just plain wrong. _

Not the breakfast at noon part; Hell before my life of crime that would have been just about right. If there were a dozen Boston crème doughnuts under that shiny metal dome lid the wave of nostalgia might just do me in for real.

I stepped back and let Mr. Monkey Suit into the room following him and his heavenly smelling white clothed cart to the dining room table in the corner of the suite near the floor to ceiling windows draped with see-through useless drapes that didn't block anything—including the light or the view of some fancy looking New York street.

I peeked under the tray while he set the table with more silverware then I knew how to use, and poured a glass pitcher of orange juice into a champagne flute. Not doughnuts, I discovered; eggs. Eggs in some kind of delicate fluffy looking omelet, and it smelled like it contained _Bacon_, and cheese—lots of bright orange cheddar cheese.

Anton must have thought I'd need cheering up this morning—then I saw the three frosted Danishes under the second smaller dome lid and changed my assessment. Anton was trying to _butter me up_ this morning.

I scowled wondering why he didn't want me to shoot him _today. _Was it the_ husband _thing?_ I could shoot him for that…but I'd probably just let Ranger do it. _

Monkey suit drizzled some kind of glazed yellow sauce over the omelet from a little silver pitcher and then looked up and noticed my expression. "I can have something else brought up…" Monkey Suit waffled about fussing over my face for a moment.

"Its fine, I just remembered I don't have any clothes…the airlines lost our luggage." I covered, remembering Anton's cover story very early this morning.

We'd stumbled into the hotel lobby at almost 4am san's any luggage for any kind of stay. Well, I'd stumbled, Anton had glided with purpose like he owned the place. I'd been too tired to see straight and no doubt looking a little rough despite a quick change of clothes on the boat. Anton had informed the hotel staff that the airport had lost our luggage, the horror of such an affair for an uptown New York business man not lost on his face. He pulled scandalized and outraged off to a 'T', knowing what he was really like if I hadn't been so damned tired I'd probably had a hard time keeping a straight face.

As it was, I don't know what my face looked like; I was just trying to resist the urge to put my face down on the cold marble countertop and sleep right there standing up. The hotel clerks gathered in masse at the desk eager to serve even at the ass crack of dawn looked equally horrified right practically wringing their hands right along with him.

One particularly busty young blonde went so far as to clutch her chest and gasp loudly like the very idea gave her heart palpitations akin to learning there was a third world war—I smirked at the memory certain it had more to do with hoping to catch Mr. Tall Dark and Hansom's eye—never mined his haggard looking girlfriend or spouse or who-ever-the-hell I was supposed to be standing right next to him. I guess I couldn't blame her, after yesterday's debacle I doubted very much I looked like much competition.

If it had been Ranger I was checking in with I might have been annoyed—okay, that's an understatement; I'd have been downright territorial and reminding myself it wasn't appropriate to lunge across the desk like a wild animal with rabies and start a slap fest or strangle the bitch. Since it was Anton I couldn't find two cares in my entire body to rub together enough to produce a single ounce of 'give a shit'.

Monkey Suit left after informing me that Mr. Paretti had them sending something up for me to wear from the boutique downstairs. And that I shouldn't fret about that terribly incompetent airline losing our luggage because the hotel shopper would be meeting me later this afternoon to get me a new wardrobe.

I had no idea what that meant, but I decided I'd evaluate that statement further when said garment arrived. I'd just shoved a bite of omelet into my mouth and moaned at the hollandaise sauce coating my tongue rich and sweet and slightly tart with little bits of bacon when something started ringing on the bar separating the kitchen I'd never use if they kept bringing me food from the living room. I wandered over to investigate the sound and on the third ring found a brand new smartphone flashing the name "Antoni" on the screen.

I answered it with a "Hello?" Since I was only partially certain I knew who it was, or that it was for me.

"Querida, did you get your breakfast? I was worried I would have to keep calling to wake you up."

I licked a speck of hollandaise sauce off my thumb and sucked another drop off my forefinger wondering how I'd managed to get it all over me in two seconds and asked "Where are you?" instead of answering that.

"Out. There is a lot of activity this morning. I want you to stay in the hotel today Por favor, just until your disguise is ready. I have a spa appointment set for you at 3 O'clock downstairs. They know what to do—"

"Just because we're married doesn't mean you get to make hair and clothing decisions for me Mister!"

Anton chuckled in my ear, the sound did not affect me. Nope, not at all. "Querida if we were actually married I would not have been on the couch this morning. And you would have lost the rest of that robe."

_Oh boy._

I scowled. "Don't even think about it, I still have a gun_." I didn't actually, damn._

"You _do,_ it is in the room safe," Anton gave me the combination quickly and told me not to take it to my spa appointment then hung up without another word.

"Ass," I said and went back to finish my omelet.

* * *

**TBC... **

**It's like Anton WANTS to get shot! ;P**

**Is he teasing like Lester or has he fallen for Bombshell just like Ranger, Diesel and everyone else? Uh oh...**


	27. Chapter 27

**Disclaimer: ** Not mine!

**Notes:** Thank you guys for the amazing reviews and support!

Hope you like this one! :)

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Seven**

* * *

**Ranger's POV**

At five minutes to one that afternoon the elevator door on the fifth floor opens with a muted 'bing.' The elevator's arrival chime the only sound in the vast room even before Ranger has stepped out onto the floor and made his presence known to anyone who's watching for him.

Rangeman is staffed 24 hours a day and 7 days a week—no matter what, around the clock someone, somewhere is on five keeping things locked down tight. On a weekday like today and especially at lunch time there should be significantly more noise. It's not unusual for his men's conversations and the normal joking to stop when he hits the floor—Ranger's not stupid, and no one in their right mind would ever call him unobservant; so he knows this is simply part of being the Boss. He knows that being the Boss means he has to set an example, draw hard lines and occasionally bust some heads...figuratively and literally on the mat downstairs.

Being the Boss largely dictates the interactions that take place on the floor and out in the field with the men he employs, Ranger can't be their friend, even with is Core team; those who grew up with and served with him from the moment he enlisted, if asked he would consider them his friends sure, and he's certain they would say the same. They're more then friends really after so many years they're brothers—but not when they wear the uniform, or work on the floor, even if it's mostly for appearances, presenting a unified front on the streets equates to strength and a wary respect in the circles his men are forced to run. It's simply understood, no one questions the boss.

When it comes to work, Rangeman runs like any other military institution and that means the Boss is _always_ the Boss—even off the clock. He's not your drinking buddy, or wingman, he's the boss—and you better treat him like one. So his men treat him like the Boss, even though sometimes Ranger really wishes they wouldn't. Today the silence as he walks down the hall isn't simply because the Boss is on the floor—this isn't a hush, it's not a lull in conversations just waiting to restart the second he shuts his office door, today the entire building and everyone in it is silent as a morgue.

Every cubicle he passes is the same. Man after man, dressed in customary black—though today somehow the color seem to carry more weight than it usually does, it's no longer simply a uniform—today it's an embodiment of mourning. There's a heavy air of defeat in the postures on the floor, like soldiers slinking home from enemy territory several men down, normally aloof and upright at-attention men, now slumped over desk chairs, and leaning against walls looking tired and forlorn—the stress of recent events is really starting to show. No one has slept well in the last few weeks since he's returned. The events of last night have not helped. Not a soul looks up when he passes, faces remain fixed to screens, he encounters more than one set of red tinted or downright bloodshot eyes in his trek down the hallway to Tank's office and his own. Spines are hunched over keyboards, fingers clacking mindlessly or poking half-heartedly away, no one will look him in the face, no one says a word.

When he reaches Tank's office the door is open, a gesture he recognizes from the usually aloof mountain of a man in times of crisis—a subtle _I'm here_, and _I feel the same pain if you need to talk_. No one will take his second in command up on that silent offer but seeing it helps lessen the burden all the same.

"Tank," He announces his presence to the larger man after a few moments of his company going unnoticed—a testament to just how affected by last night's events the big man really is. Sitting hunched over his desk like a great ogre with rolled shoulders and a creased brow Tank visibly twitches hearing him speak. His eyes raise from the mountains of paperwork scattered across his desk. Tank eyes him silently for a moment, taking in the same outfit from last night (minus of course the Kevlar vest) he wonders for a brief moment if he should have changed, if Tank can still smell the whiskey on his breath, he probably shouldn't drive anywhere for a while longer just to be safe.

"Ric," The use of his first name, like the open door is an olive branch extended to a friend. One word, so many meanings he can infer:

_You don't need to be here, not today_

_If you need to talk, I can put this paperwork away._

And the most obvious of course being somewhere along the lines of _old friend, you look like shit._

"You look like shit," Tank said with a great heaving sigh a moment later, "go be with Julie, there's no point in making an appearance for show today—it'd be lost on them all anyway. Hell I had to send Hal down to four to sleep it off—I swear he was still drunk when he staggered in the door." Tank's eyes cut over him once more, sharp, assessing.

Ranger ignores the obvious question of whether or not he's completely sober in them. He's sober enough to work inside Rangeman, if he left the building he might be too tempted to shoot someone in his current state. "I need the Core Team assembled in Conference Room A in twenty minutes."

Tank's expression remains the same, except the eyes, the eyes give him away. They clearly state, _Not there Ric, anywhere but there, pick another place._

Ranger waits eyebrow raised.

"I have Bravo and Etch cleaning the room out." He states slowly looking at Ranger's face trying to get a read on his reaction, but not meeting his gaze.

The action makes sense Ranger realizes from Tank's point of view, but the thought of her being filed away, forgotten, fills him with a sudden wash of anger so intense he snarls and slams the flat side of his fist and forearm into Tank's already propped open door. The _Wham!_ rebounds down the hallway as the door bounces back into the side of his boot and the crash of two framed photos sliding off the wall from the vibrations echo through Tank's office even before Ranger's turned on his heel a split second later and bolted towards the conference room door at a dead run.

Tank's warning bellow behind him barely registering in his rage filled mind before the big guy leaps to his feet shoving away from his desk sending paper's scattering to sprint down the hall hoping to stop him from bashing in anyone's skull or shooting anyone, especially when they're just following orders from above.

_It makes sense_, Ranger tells himself even as he bolts down the hall, _Tank thinks she's dead,_ they all do—the search is over. Life must go on—Rangemen must go on. Even the staff selection for such a job is compassionate, Etch and Bravo are still fairly new, barely out of probation—wise choices to clean out the conference room, remove the last traces of his Babe and anything related to their failed search so his more attached and emotionally involved men won't have to bare such a burden. It's efficient to have it done so soon. Probably better for Rangeman as a whole; this way Manny or Hal or Les don't walk down the hall try to take the backstairs for the gym or to reach the storage room and pass by here again.

It's kinder that any reminder is removed before it becomes some kind of shrine to his Babe they can't undo, before it forever becomes Bomber's room and no one can sit in conference without feeling the weight of it.

_It's Logical, Smart, Practical..._

_Fuck that,_ Ranger snarls.

"Ric! Stop! _Right Now_!"

_Fuck that shit_, his hands clench into fists, _no one gets to tell him what to do_.

Ranger slams his shoulder and hip into the door of the conference room. It's solid wood but not made to take an assault this strong, the simple door frame latch gives way—it flies open slamming back into the wall with the force of a gunshot splitting the air and startling both the rookies inside so badly they drop their cardboard boxes and pull their guns eyes wide.

Tank's made it to the open doorway a split second behind him and taken in the scene before bellowing, "Jesus Christ You gonna Shoot the Boss or put that Away?!" They drop their hands and stow their guns away still looking freaked while Tank hollers, "Get the Hell outta here," and both young men high tail it out the door darting past their quietly seething boss and the misleadingly more terrifying large man beside him. Neither aware that the one most likely to break them in half is the one who hasn't said a damn word since he burst in.

Ranger's frozen staring at the missing boards and charts and maps from the wall, the scattered papers from Etch's dropped box now spilled across the floor. "Who said you could have this stuff removed?" He hisses eyes narrowing at his friend.

"Ric, Damnit Man. Shit. Have you seen yourself today?" Tank shuts the conference room door—or tries to, it no longer lines up completely the right way and after frowning at it and grumbling for a moment Tank lifts it by its handle and manages to drag it shut anyway. "Look no one needs to see you like this." He adds.

"She's alive Tank,"

Tank was just moving to collect one of the cardboard boxes from the carpeted floor and at this he stops, frozen in a half crouch with the box lid in his hand. He drops the lid and raises his hands to his face dragging his palms up and over to skim completely over his bald shaved head looking exhausted. "No, Ric. She isn't." Tank says very quietly. "They called this morning. They couldn't find the body, but they said the tide last night was going out at the same time the crash happened—when Julie pulled her out of the car the current—"

"No, Tank."

"No Ric, _Listen _to me." Tank straightens up expression pained and desperate. "Don't go down this road, don't do it man."

"Fuck you, listen to me!" Ranger snarls.

"NO! _You_ listen to _me!_ Stephanie's Dead Ric! She's dead! She's not coming back! There's no maybe's here, no leads to follow, she's gone man…she's _gone_. Don't do this, don't make me watch you go down this path, I can't…you start chasing her shadow Ric you'll never come back,"

"Julie told me—"

"Julie just lost Bomber too!" Tank roars. "We all did!" He's waving his arms now, "not just you! We all loved her! Of course Julie wants to believe she's still alive! Hell, I want to believe it, but Christ Ric it just isn't true! Kid felt so responsible for the accident she was trying to climb back in the water when she was half frozen to look for her again… You're not doing her or you any favors believing this. I don't want her to be gone either, but she is. It's over…it's _over_ Ric, let it go, you have to let _her_ go man."

Ranger's glares at him over the table top. _Give her up?_ _"Never." _

Tank jerks his face away to stare at his hands. _ "Ric, _I need you to keep your shit together man,"

"My shit is together! You get your shit together and listen to me!"

"I will, when you _Start _making _Sense_! You're drunk Ric! You've had no sleep, and Bossman or not I'm kicking your ass off this floor…"

"Stephanie's alive, Julie told me—"

"Ric!"

"—They planned the whole thing. From the airport to the car chase—"

"They went in the water! They went off a _Fucking GodDamn Bridge_!"

"They had a backpack with a scuba tank and diver's mask."

"a—what?!" Tank stares at him.

Ranger's grin is fierce, "They knew about the contract, they knew Luent was in town and searching for them. They lured him there."

"No—"

"Stephanie needed to be dead. Julie told me, Tank she's alive, the whole thing was staged—"

"Including her beating the shit out of your face?" Tank asks eyeing him. "Seriously, have you seen yourself this morning? Last time you looked this bad was after that shitty extraction went to Hell outside Ciudad Juarez, when you and that spook guy—"

"Trevino,"

Tank grins wider, "Yeah, _that's the guy_. Trevino, that asshole tried to rearrange your face with a broken bottle of Modelo. Course that was after you both trashed half the fucking bar throwing each other around the damn place like rag dolls,"

"He started it,"

"Three months in that shit hole. I just wanted to drink, but nooo, you guys had to go and try to kill each other again." Tank pauses, "What was it that time?"

"I honestly don't remember." Ranger growls.

Tank shot him a look that said, _now see, that's Exactly why You shouldn't drink_…

"It was two beers," Ranger shot back, eyes narrowing when the larger man responded with a 'pfft!' "Maybe three." He amended.

"Tequila shots." Tank said. Ranger's brow rose slowly toward the ceiling, his eyes took on a distant look and then his lips turned up match his brow. He'd forgotten about the tequila…Damn Lester, his cousin should have gotten the black eye and split lip and hairline fracture from that fight…not that Trevino fared much better…

"She's really not dead?" Tank said.

"She's really, not dead."

"Then what the Hell are we standing around for?!" Tank barked clapping his hands like a clap of thunder and grabbing his cell phone out of his pocket raising it to his face a split second later he barked "Lester! Get your Ass up! Grab Bobby and get your hung over ass down to Conference room A!" He hung up before Les could argue and then turned to Ranger again.

"Ric,"

"Don't even say it, and this stays between the Core team. There's still a contract out on her life—right now someone's paid for that hit, and everyone thinks it's been fulfilled. If this gets out for two point five million—"

"We'll have every major hitter, low life and wanna-be crawling through town looking for her."

"Right."

Tank blew out a sigh. "I was hoping I didn't have to tell you this,"

Ranger's eyes narrowed in question, waiting.

"Luent was released on bond this morning—"

"What?!" Ranger snarled.

"—seems the funds that the FBI found in his account last night mysteriously transferred out this morning again—before the FBI could lock the account. They tried to track the money but lost it somewhere overseas. I guess they figured without the funds he couldn't run. They froze the rest of his assets beyond a meager cash fund, guys got enough to eat at Mcdonalds and that's about it, he can't even afford a bus ticket—and they have a two man team following him just to make sure."

"SonofaBitch!" He roared kicking out and upending a chair. "We got men on him?"

"Not yet, with Julie here I didn't think it was necessary, I'll get a team out there. Think the payer figured out the target got away and retracted their payment?"

"Let's hope not. If that's the case we need to find her and bring her in."

"She's not going to hide in the building—" Tank started in, Hell they'd tried that scenario one to many times to think it would work, it never had!

"It'll work," Ranger snarled. _He'd handcuff her to his fucking bed if he had to…_

"Ric," Tank said, eyes a little wide, his cheeks a touch pink even under his dark skin tone.

_Shit._ "I'm losing it." Ranger said dragging a hand over his face.

"You get any sleep?"

"Two hours?"

"How much of that bottle did you leave?"

They eyed each other for a silent moment.

"Yeah, I know about it, what am I stupid?" Tank said hands on his hips doing a damn good impersonation of a pissed off Burg mother, "Look, everyone drank last night_, including_ me; I just stopped before dawn unlike the rest of you sorry slubs. You've got a hair trigger temper this morning, you look like Hell, and you smell like you spent the whole night making out with a bottle of whiskey."

"Les and Bobby?"

"Santos was pretty much destroyed when he called me at 7am, Bobby was with him—shitfaced is an understatement; I could hear him puking in the background. Let me tell you how my stomach did not need that soundtrack at 7am after Jose Cuervo lulled me to sleep at 4am."

"So the teams pretty much—"

"Incapacitated," Tank said. "Where ever she is she's probably safe for the next 24 hours right? Everyone thinks she's dead. Long as it stays that way no one's looking to settle a score or cash in big, long as she doesn't walk down the street and attract the eye of some crazy SOB…"

Ranger shot him a dark look.

"What? I'm just saying…"

"Well _Don't_," Ranger growled back.

Tank glanced at the clock. "Fuck, they should be here by now. I'm gonna have to go drag physically drag Santos's ass out of bed."

"Probably off the bathroom floor."

Tank grunted looking like that was a distinct possibility. "It's like basic all over again."

"Nah, chances are this time he's wearing pants."

Tank grunted noncommittally to that thought.

"That four day stint after the cartel in Tijuana," Ranger shot back and Tank groaned.

"Let's hope not, Bobby's not exactly in any shape to start up an IV drip. Whose fucking idea was it to take cover in a bar during college spring break?"

Their eyes met from across the room with a grin, "Santos," they said.

"What? That was a damn good trip," the man in question slurred from the now open door. He was in uniform—_sorta, _his hair standing up at odd angles and peaks like it'd been licked by a goat. Bobby was leaning on the doorframe beside him with bloodshot eyes looking like he was torn between refuting that statement or being sick in the nearby trashcan.

"Permission to speak frankly Sir?" Ranger and Tank both eyed the green around the gills medic wondering if that frankness might involve some Technicolor yawning. "The fuck am I doing here?" Bobby said eloquently looking ready to slide down the door and right onto the floor.

Tank motioned his head to the conference table between them all. "Grab a seat gentleman, you're going to want to drink again after this…"

"Oh god," Bobby said. "No. No more alcohol…"

Ten minutes later after the shock wore off Lester proposed a round of shots to celebrate and Bobby threw up on the floor.

* * *

**TBC...**

**Poor Bobby...**


	28. Chapter 28

**Disclaimer: **_ Not mine, borrowing them anyway! Thanks Janet!_

**Notes: **_ Very short chapter I wrote tonight, my writing schedule got a bit messed up today as we were meeting with house planning people, (yay!) But this short little bit doesn't really fit with tomorrow's chapter covering Stephanie so I figured what the heck I'd put it up now. *shrug* It was either that or a really short chapter tomorrow, and I think I'd rather focus Chpt 29 on Stephanie/Anton POV stuff. _

_So here's the rest of Rangeman's day..._

_Thanks to all the readers and reviewers! Each review is like a million Boston Crème doughnuts delivered to my door! XD_

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Eight**

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**Ranger's POV**

Hector was in his office when Ranger stopped by after Lester and Tank hauled Bobby back down to Four to sleep it off. He was going to head up to seven and get some desperately needed sleep himself too, but first he needed to talk to Hector to see if he knew anyway to get a message to his Babe. Ranger paused in the doorway to the office, hadn't been in this room since he'd been home; he hadn't realized Hector now shared the office with another occupant.

The hamster cage on the desk was easily recognizable as Rex's, but the familiarity stopped there. What branched off of its humble beginnings was a veritable _Hamster Kingdom_ with a series of neon hued see-through tubes complete alcoves filled with soft fluffy cedar chips and built in hidey holes to peek out of and wheels and climbing things. Hector had converted half the wall above his desk to an anchored system of tubes zipping and darting and zig-zagging across the room.

The Hamster King in question had been doing wind sprints on the desk in a sort of clear globe/running ball which had until moments ago been spinning like mad as he raced in a never ending quest towards the desk's other occupant, the fact that he couldn't reach him lost on his tiny hamster brain. Now Rex stood perched on his hind legs in the slightly darkened room blinking his beady eyes at the new intruder his whiskers twitched and he shot backwards up the tube and into one of the darkened hidey holes halfway up the wall.

Hector had twisted in his chair to watch him but said nothing until then, "El jefe," he greeted quietly.

"Hector,"

"Shut the door?" Hector said.

Ranger did noting that the office was much darker than it should have been—probably in deference to the normally nocturnal Fur Baby on Hector's desk.

"Oigo, esta mañana la policía encuentra Ron muerto en su casa . Parece que después de beber la cabeza de mierda estúpida trató de lavar su última copita abajo con algo de plomo." Hector informed him face somber. (I hear, this morning the police find Ron dead in his home. It seems that after drinking the stupid shithead tried to wash his last shot down with some lead.)

"Is that so?"

"Si," Hector's face was somber. "The Policia rule it a suicidio."

"Tragic." Ranger said. "Hector how did you communicate with Steph, while she was gone?"

Hector stared at him, for a long moment then grabbed a sheet of white printing paper and jotted something down.

He handed it to Ranger who glanced at it. "She never answer, but the emails are read—I check on our end, it was not us."

"Thank you Hector,"

"No mention it," Hector said. "Crees que no se ha ido?" (You think she is not gone?)

"Lo sé." Ranger said. (I know.)

Hector simply nodded slowly and turned back to his desk.

At 3:12 pm Ranger made it back upstairs. Ella had been up to drop off food for lunch and informed him that Julie was still sleeping away, snoring so loudly she could hear her from the front room. His Nina was worn-out; it had been a long night and a hard 24hours from the sound of the detail of the plans he'd gotten from her before she passed out.

Pushing the door open on seven he paused for a moment after dropping his keys in the silver dish on the sideboard. He could still hear Julie's quiet snores, the door to his bedroom now cracked probably so that Ella could keep an ear out for her while she'd cleaned up the previous night's mess, which Ranger for the first time in years felt bad about.

The coffee table was conspicuously absent—probably damaged beyond repair from its meeting with the wall. The rug was missing as well, no longer rolled up in the corner—probably due to Ella finding glass shards embedded in it from the paintings also missing from the floors and walls.

Ella had also left a Pottery Barn Kids catalog open to little girls rooms on the kitchen bar for them to peruse later he noted, and a hand scrawled note asking if he'd like his desk moved to his bedroom or if he wanted the living room rearranged to create space for it…he hadn't even had a chance to ask her about such decisions yet. He honestly did not pay that woman enough for everything she did. Ranger wasn't sure there was enough pay in the world sometimes for putting up with him and his men.

Leaving the food in the fridge until Julie woke up, and leaving her to sleep Ranger moved to the french doors to his office, leaving them open he slipped into his desk chair resting his forearms on the leather arms waiting for his laptop to boot up. When it did he pulled the folded piece of paper from his pocket flattened it onto the desk's top and quickly flipped through functions on his laptop to find the right thing. Taking the photo from his pocket and setting it next to the scribbled page Ranger steepled his hands in front of him now that he had the ability to say something he found he was uncertain what to say.

For thirty minutes he stared at the blinking curser on his screen before finally raising his hands to type and hitting send before he could backspace the entire thing and torture himself over the words for another thirty minutes. Shutting the laptop down and tucking the paper carefully in a drawer Ranger returned the beach photo to his pocket and moved back out to the living room couch—this time remembering to remove his shoes before laying out flat on his back one arm crooked over his eyes. He was instantly asleep.

* * *

**TBC...**

* * *

**If you were Ranger, what would you write? (I already know what he wrote for the next chapter but I'd love to hear what words you imagine Batman trying to say...)**

**PS: Several people asked if Trevino is Anton... to which I say: Muhahahaha! :D **

**Would I really add some random guy into Tank and Ranger's dialog if it didn't have ANYTHING to do with the plotline?! *ahem* **


	29. Chapter 29

**Disclaimer**: Not mine

**Notes: **_Rough morning for me here, I sold my pony this morning (*sob*) one of the last things I had to do before we make our move to the new house in an actual neighborhood. It will be a good thing in the long term but very painful right now as I've had her for years and I will miss her (even though I barely got to do anything with her now that I have a toddler at home). _

_So this chapter is my cheering up! Stephanie needed some spoiling so I gave it to her! (and yes it does go with the plot (; not just gratuitous buttering her up!) Anton also decided to be very Anton-ian in this chapter...Julie is out of the picture as far as he's concerned...oh boy._

_Also...__I decided to give you most of Steph's training in inner monologue thoughts I did type up a whole chapter/section with her and Julie but it didn't fit in anywhere and it felt long winded and just not quite right. I figured if I gave you a play-by-play of everything from those four months this thing would go 'Lord of the Rings' length and I might lose the top of my head… LOL_

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**Chapter Twenty-Nine**

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**Stephanie's POV**

At fifteen past three I'd explored the room including, disturbingly enough, noticing which pieces of furniture would be the most likely candidates to stop bullets or at least slow them down and provide cover and a clear line to return fire should someone like say the FBI or NYPD burst through the door…Anton's months of training apparently had successfully stuck with me.

The gentle knock on the door didn't give me heart palpitations this time and I wasn't surprised when I checked through the peep hole to find another hotel employee on the other side. They handed me a bag with an expensive designer logo on the side, and the hotel name embossed in big black letters above that; just in case the staff forgot where they worked I guess. He asked if I needed anything else, and then high-tailed it down the hall at a brisk pace.

_Huh._ I peeked into the bag and found clothes, nice ones—and comfortable too. When I first heard Anton had picked out clothes I had been worried about what I'd find in the bottom of this bag, but it seemed the man in question had decided to be well behaved now that I was armed again. Bully for him.

Yoga pants and an attractive high end soft cotton t-shirt, based on the tag, without embellishments or words were folded up in soft white tissue paper in the bottom of the bag. There was also a set of pale pink toned and slightly lacy panties and a matching push-up bra. There were flip flops at the very bottom with the name of the hotel written on the insoles (in case my feet forgot where I was?) they also had the word SPA scrolled across them in fancy script lettering. I wondered if that was a clue for how my entire day was going to go, and then I scampered off to the bedroom to get myself dressed.

At quarter to three hair in a (still) very short pony, flip flops and yoga clothes on I exited the elevator and easily found the salon. It was breathtakingly modern looking even from the lobby space outside it and hard to miss. _Vu Hair New York_ sounded like one of those fancy places I could never afford even working for EE Martin what felt like a lifetime ago now. I worried about that for a brief moment before I went in, Anton had made the appointment so I hoped that meant this was being charged to the room and that was already taken care of. Either that or he'd have to have left them a credit card—I didn't even have ID to match my new identity yet. I wasn't even sure I knew how to spell my own last name! I didn't have a purse or cash or a credit card to go with this name; I wasn't sure if I was going to be Mrs. Paretti long enough to need some.

I gave my name to the lady at the desk and instead of asking me to have a seat she quickly took me straight to the back and introduced me to a very good looking man with wavy rich dark brown hair to his chin that rivaled Rangers and a grin that could make a brick wall swoon.

"Darling! Oh. Your husband told me all about it, have a seat right here and we will get you fixed up in no time! The horror! Curls should _never_ be cut this way, can you imagine?" He gasped to an assistant who tutted in agreement and shook her head. "When I'm done with you the heavens will sing darling, Sing!"

He was also exceptionally gay. At least I didn't have to worry about him hitting on me, of course according to Valintino, (and I _mean really? That hair and that name? One of them had to be fake_…) my hair was _such_ a tragedy I didn't think I had to worry about even a desperate straight man hitting on me. Bag ladies, apparently, wouldn't show their faces with my hair…I took a look at in the mirror as they got me seated and took down my pony tail letting my hair sprong forward around my face and…okay, he kinda had a point. _Yikes._

Within twenty minutes 'Val' had me draped in a cape, foiled up with something stinky that made my eyes water and sting and sitting under a steamy dome thing, that attempted to cook my head. Then twenty minutes after that it was lather rinse and when they plopped me back down into the chair my curls were just _GONE_. Not in that wet hair still curling at the ends kinda way…the strands of my normally unruly hair were limp and flat as a board!

Holy Crap, Anton had them straighten my hair!

Before I could even process that Val had an assistant bring him what looked like a two foot pony tail they'd lobbed of someone's head and stuffed in a white box. I was blow dried and combed and then they started gluing several strands of the new hair to the now flat strands already on my head starting at the very top and front and working their way around.

I'd have watched the whole process in a mixture of fascination and horror; trying to figure out what the hell this was going to look like when they were done, and may have contemplated bolting from the chair and running if another hotel employee hadn't arrived right when the gluing started up. She quickly said _hello_, shook my hand even under the black hair cape and informed me with a stack of catalogs almost a foot high balanced on one arm that she was the personal shopper my Husband had sent. Her name was Blaine; and she was a chipper smiling petite blonde barely reaching five foot 4 in black boots with three inch heels and a smartly pressed black power suit. She took one look at me and said "Size four?"

"Six." I said, though sometimes I had to leave the top snap unbuttoned if I had too many stress induced TastyKakes in a single month…not recently though—recently there hadn't been any TastyKakes…or any cakes, _ugh._ Blaine pursed her lips and I lost sight of her for a moment as Val circled my head to stand in front of me.

"No that can't be right," she said, "I know my sizes and you're definitely a four, and a size 7 shoe?"

"She's a four," Val said nodding away and grabbing another few strands of hair.

"No, sometimes I can fit in a four," I hedged. "But usually it's so tight that it's uncomfortable." Like if I ate anything—or even looked at food.

"Honey, I bet when you wear a size four men's tongues hang out and they walk face first into walls." Val said.

_No, Ranger made woman walk into walls—_as far as I know no one has _ever _walked into a wall male or otherwise when I was around—unless of course if it was because they were simply running to get away from me and were in such a hurry they missed the door… that I could believe.

"Oh Darling, You _really_ don't know do you? Isn't that _precious_—no wonder that _sexy Latin man_ is all over the moon about you." Val made the words drip like molasses and sound sassy all at the same time. "You're just adorable, but when I'm done with you you'll be Va-Va-Voom, Mr. Mocha gonna have drool on his chin."

I started and then realized he was talking about _Anton_, not _Ranger._ I quickly bit my lip to hide a frown—I was supposed to be married to the guy, at least while we were here, I didn't think retching noises were going to protect that cover…or get me invited back to this swanky Spa again.

Puking on the stylists shoes was probably forbidden.

"Size four," Blaine said, than she added with a wink, "Trust me, I do this for a living."

_Okay, _I thought,_ I could always return anything that didn't fit—_though it would be depressing to try on clothing and find that everything was too tight. Especially without any pineapple upside down cake to console myself with.

Blaine instructed me to go through the giant stack of catalogs in my lap and circle anything I wanted to try on, she'd have them in my room, in the right sizes (she assured me) for me to try. She told me to make certain I shopped for shoes and undergarments as well—and any accessories I wanted from handbags to jewelry could also be purchased the same way.

So I spent the next three hours flipping through the pages of New York Company, BeBe, Victoria's Secret, Louis Vuitton, Fendi, Gucci, and Sak's Fifth Ave. While they glued things to my head both Val, who had tremendous fashion sense it turned out which made me feel better about my hair, and his assistant Courtney who was rather trendy herself pointed out things that I simply _had_ to have. I had no idea what the budget was here but Val assured me that Mr. Paretti had insisted I needed a whole new wardrobe to go with my new look and that I should take a man that smartly dressed and delicious looking at his word, apparently Anton had been down here earlier and left quite the impression..._Oh boy._

"Honey, he let you walk around with that other haircut for how long? Man owes you diamonds darling, diamonds—oh! And that dress right there!" Val purred and then used the brush thingy in his hand to point to a Fendi dress that cost more than my monthly rent at my old apartment. _Yikes._

By the time Val and Courtney had made it around my entire head I'd made it through almost all the magazines and my personal shopper Blaine rushed back in to collect them and get everything ready in my suite. She raced back out and Val and Courtney started mixing up something so dark it looked black and painting and foiling my head again.

_Oh boy, _I closed my eyes and said a little prayer.

They turned me away from the mirror so I couldn't watch and kept up a steady stream of chatter about fashion and everything else under the sun until I was declared done. I was stuffed under another space dome and left to percolate for ten minutes while I flipped through another magazine and then I was whisked back up to have my hair washed and stuffed into the chair again. My butt was starting to feel a little flat and my legs were going to sleep.

Val grabbed a comb and scissors and begin to shape and style and trim and cut all the long pieces they'd added to my head—pieces that looked jet black with the water still clinging to them. I was starting to get a little nervous about all this when Val grabbed some products spraying and scrunching and then blow drying with little fluffing motions with his other hand all while strategically blocking the mirror in front of me with his chest. When he stepped back after spritzing my head down with another bottle of something that had the words 'glossy' and 'texture' on it I finally caught sight of myself in the mirror and I had to admit the effect was….

"Stunning," Val said.

"You look like a movie star," Courtney said.

"Holy Shit." I said blinking at the woman in the mirror I didn't even recognize. I'm a decent looking girl, I've got half-way good bone structure a nice nose, blue eyes and on a good day with low humidity and a little sacrifice to the hair gods I can pull of 'looking good' This wasn't looking good, this was; _Wow._

I stared at the girl in the mirror, still draped shapelessly in a black hair salon cape and was in awe. She had glossy, shiny soft waving hair in perfectly tousled soft curls to her mid-back that tumbled forward rich and full over her slim shoulders, and instead of my light brown these new ones were a deep rich mahogany that caught the light with a hint of red and softer highlighted brown. My entire head was now only a few shades lighter then Julie's hair was and the effect was, _stunning_ Val was right!

It made my skin look paler but not in a washed out way gothic kinda-way, my face looked luminescent peeking out beneath my new hair it drew the eye like porcelain or ivory. It made my eyes pop so bright they jumped out at me even at this distance and without a single bit of make-up on.

"Now, go with Courtney," Val said sweeping the cape off my shoulders with a flourish and waving his arms like a proud parent sending a child off to college. "She will get you all made-up the rest of the way."

"Made-up?" I was still starring wide eyed at the stranger in the mirror wondering how _she_ could be _me_.

"Your make-up Darling, Courtney is doing your Make-up. Mr. Paretti also has you set up for some time in the Spa."

I thought this _was_ the Spa, but what did I know? Giving my amazing new hair one more long look in the mirror, _not a whole lot I decided,_ Val was a miracle worker.

Apparently make-up with Courtney also entailed shaping my brows into perfect sweeping lines. I still couldn't manage to lift just one like everyone else could but damn they did they look good—I mean it wasn't like I'd had a unibrow before or some horror like that! I'd tweezed regularly but I'd never been brave enough with tweezers in my own mirror to go quite this sculpted.

When my brows were done she went through picking out color palates and brushes and bases and primers and powders and I mean, I always thought I was pretty good when it came to make-up. Being a Jersey Girl I was pretty much born with a mascara brush and compact powder in my hands but Courtney made make-up an _art_. It was almost embarrassing, she could be doing make-up for the stars and instead she was sitting here showing me how to do several new looks each one had me eying myself in the mirror and wondering if I was Ranger how the hell I'd keep my damn hands off me—and hoping he wouldn't. I squirmed in my seat and decided I should probably think about something else before I needed new panties, I only _had_ one set after all!

After Courtney was done instructing and powdering me she told me she'd have all my new make-up packed up and sent to my suite. I hadn't realized I was buying everything we'd just played with and when I asked her how much it cost she waved her hand and told me it was already taken care of.

I wasn't sure whether to curse Anton, or bless him.

I didn't have much time to fret over that though because ten seconds later I was shuttled into the next section of the Spa and a woman named Erin took me to 'get started'. Turned out getting started included waxing and a massage. It also included a sugar scrub—which tasted like pomegranate and oranges and smelled divine and I might have stuck my finger in the jar and eaten some of it if they'd left me alone with the dang thing for two seconds. Then someone else gave me a Mani and Pedi and I was ushered back into my clothes and sent up stairs to meet Blaine the woman who was running around New York 'personally' shopping for me.

And here I was thinking faking my death yesterday had made the day bizarre…

Blaine met me inside the suite, and I was glad I hadn't left out any guns, with two giant rolling racks of clothes. I stopped and stared at them wondering how in the hell I'd picked that many clothes.

"You didn't," Blaine admitted looking a little guilty, "Some of them I added. I couldn't resist; and a few of them were choices Mr. Paretti sent me."

"Ah," I said moving closer to the racks to riffle through them. I didn't see anything in leather or feathers or see-through lace so I guess that meant Anton wouldn't be eating lead for dinner. "So how does this work?" I said and flopped onto the chase lounger near the coffee table staring at everything. That was a _lot_ of clothes, it was like having the entire department store rolled to my door!

"Well, I already picked your sizes so you just go in and try on everything. Anything you don't like I return for you, and anything you need a different size on you just let me know and I'll swap it out—"

I stared at all the clothes and thought that might take a _really_ long time, and I was already kind a hungry. "You don't have to try on everything, of course." Blaine added seeing my look. "And you could always try them on tomorrow and I could return them then, you honestly have about seven days to decide before the charges are final."

"No, let's do this now." I said hauling myself up and trying not to do the math for the rack of clothing in my head. It was Anton's fault if he got the bill and had a heart attack, he told me to go crazy! He shouldn't say things like that to a former-shop-a-holic Jersey girl if he didn't want to suffer the consequences! Besides, I didn't even know if we would _be here_ tomorrow. We could be in Italy, or Spain or Hell in Newark for all I knew!

It took almost two hours even with me simply pulling on zipping and buttoning up before pulling back off everything Blaine had brought. I made two piles 'Definitely keeping' and 'OMG this looks amazing/hot.'

The only thing I didn't keep at the end of my marathon changing session was a Fendi dress that was simply too big despite the size 4 tag to look right on my hips –_I know right?_ Who knew running three miles a day the last three months with Julie and taking palates seriously would make such a dramatic change? _I looked AMAZING in EVERYTHING. _

_Holy Crap on a cracker, _if I'd known working out regularly would mean I could pull off any outfit I wanted and look this hot I'd have stuck with it a long time ago! Of course Julie's version of a 'get Stephanie running' plan was a lot gentler then Ranger's had been—he'd dragged me out of bed (almost literally by my ankles a few times) and forced me to follow him around the block until I puked and almost passed out. Julie's version had involved walking to start—I hadn't even realized we _had _started a training program until almost week three when Julie had introduced the soccer ball for us to chase down the beach and then informed me that we'd walk/jogged three miles that day! I was so shocked I almost fell over right there in the sand. By week four we were jogging almost the whole thing and I was barely out of breath. And then Julie (sneaky devil) started adding in thirty second sprints by 'accidently' kicking the soccer ball too hard forcing us to race after it to catch up…

By week Five we spent half the time just chasing the ball around the beach kicking it as hard and fast as we could back and forth, chasing it, and kicking it back to where we'd started. We would spend hours on the beach and the next day while my muscles were sore I'd felt great and the best part was I hadn't thrown up anything!

Now three months later I had a body that I still caught sight of in the mirror and didn't recognize—I'd never in my life looked this good, I had muscles in my calves, and my arms were toned and I had definition in my abs, not a six pack mind you…but I was fit trim and my ass had never looked better both in and out of jeans! And for the first time in the last three years there was no one to appreciate it! (life is cruel…)

Blaine hung everything for me in the closet of the suite, lining shoes up along the shoe rack below it and I noticed the other half of the closet was now filled with men's clothing—business suits, dark slacks, newly pressed jeans and collared shirts. I guess that meant Anton was staying for the long haul with me, even if he was stuck sleeping on the couch. He certainly wasn't sleeping in my bed—king size or not, hell no, not even with a ski suit on. I might have trusted Diesel (barely) enough to share one room, and I'd slept next to Ranger (_Hot Flash!)_ on more the one occasion with only…sorta minimal molesting going on. And okay maybe a lot of that had been something I'd started but I could not be held responsible for what I did in my sleep!

Turns out my subconscious is a bit of dirty slut, and she likes Ranger…_a lot._

The phone was ringing on the bar again as I saw Blaine out the door of the suite, now pushing and dragging behind her the empty clothing trollies and one sad lonely reject dress. I made it back to snatch it off the bar top by the third ring.

"Ignoring me Querida?"

"Blaine was still here,"

"Ah, put on that pink dress and meet me on the rooftop—"

"On the roof? What the Hell is on the roof?" I doubted he'd buy me a bunch of clothes and style my hair just to throw me off…but this _is_ Anton. I frowned.

"Dinner is on the roof, eight O'clock." Anton said and disconnected.

"Does nobody say _goodbye_ anymore?" I complained to the empty room. Then since it was past 730 and I was actually pretty famished and my stomach had started growling at the thought of food I went to get changed. I'd only seen one pink dress in all the outfits that Blaine had brought. It was a sweetheart neckline, strapless bodice in a pale shell pink with a lacy overlay and a soft floaty skirt that hit four inches above my knee. I'd thought Blaine had picked it out since it looked like something that would be adorable on her tiny blonde frame—but since Anton had mentioned it specifically I guess that meant that he had.

Color me shocked. I'd have thought he'd go for something skin tight, and racy-red. I paired the dress with a pair of crème toned FMP with a three inch heel and a little ankle strap that crisscrossed halfway up my shin, left my hair down and lost the bra since the dress had one built in. I gave myself a once over in the full length mirror and still couldn't believe the knockout standing there was me.

For the first time in years if one of the Merry Men had called me '_Bombshell'_ I'd have felt like the title was right!

I left the suite with ten minutes to spare, found the elevator and biting my lip pushed the button for '_R_' which I assumed meant _Roof_. When the doors slide open I wasn't on the roof—I was in a lobby of some kind a fancy one, but Anton was standing there, hands clasped behind his back waiting. Our eyes met and then his swept over me and I kinda did the same stepping out of the elevator in a strange mix of impulse and obligation when he offered me his hand. He looked good enough to eat.

_With._ He looked good enough to eat _with. Cripes._ I blew out a breath and tried to ignore the way the black slacks fit his narrow hips and well-muscled thighs, and the way his dress shirt fit around his chest, the tanned to perfection skin exposed by the sleeves rolled to his elbows , and the glimpse of broad muscled chest visible between the loose buttons under his throat. It was almost the same shade as my dress—definitely on purpose I decided. And Damn if it didn't look good against his dark skin, and judging by the look he shot me he knew it too.

Anton ushered me out a fancy glass door onto the roof of the hotel—and a restaurant seating dream. It was like something out of a movie. I had to blink a few times and almost pinch myself. The entire rooftop was floored in some kind of grey slate tile, the furniture was heavy dark stained whicker with heavily padded seats and scattered stripped cushions, a few tables were filled with dinners—a few couples were dancing there were Moroccan accents scattered here and there in the form of flared candle holders, potted trees with oddly sculpted branches curving upward topped with cotton ball fluff greenery and little twinkling lights everywhere.

"Our seats," Anton lead me to one of the tables and we sat down. A waiter came to offer us drinks and Anton ordered food for us as well—several kinds of dishes to sample and then he left us to talk alone.

"What is this?" I asked staring at him over the table cloth and the candle flame.

"Dinner, we need to eat. It is also practice for what is to come." I frowned at that but didn't say anything. "Blaine tells me you found everything you need?" I nodded and the waiter brought our drinks and poured wine. I took a few sips—it was good but I set the flute back down without food in my stomach and even with it the wine would quickly go straight to my head.

"Who paid for all that?" I asked folding my hands on the table cloth.

"I did." Anton said "But if you object you could always cover them yourself." and I sputtered and choked.

"I don't have that kind of money!" I said.

"Querida, you have 2.5 million at your disposal."

I stared at him.

"The contract?"

"I thought that was paid to Luent the second I was dead?" I whispered glancing around wondering if we shouldn't discuss this downstairs.

"It was, but I had it removed just before the FBI locked the accounts down— It only seemed fair since _you_ were the one who did all the work. You should be the one to reap the rewards, don't look at me like that Querida it is dirty money and it would have been lost in bureaucratic hands. I find I like it much better in yours." His eyes flicked over me once more and he hoisted his wine glass to me and took a sip.

"You have money set aside for you in an account—I split it actually into several accounts, easier to hide it that way." He lowered his voice again. "Each account is attached to one of your new ID's. I had seven made for you just in case—if this should go wrong you can choose who you wish to keep you safe; Manoso" he frowned at that, almost a grimace, telling me what he thought of that, "or you can trust yourself. If you are not near him or the girl chances are you could start over without ever having a problem again. You could buy yourself a nice little house somewhere beautiful, somewhere safe."

"What about you?" I asked and his eyes flicked to me and I wondered if he'd taken that the wrong way.

"What about me Querida?" his tone was dark.

"Nothing," I said shaking my head.

"I have something for you," Anton said in a soft dinner atmosphere voice. He ignored the look I shot him at his words and proceeded to pull a silver necklace chain fine as a hair from his pocket—a tiny silver disk spinning too fast to be clear at its end. He reached across the table for my hand and laid it on my palm—the metal cool against my skin. I grasped it in my fingers and brought it closer for inspection. It was a Catholic's Saint's medal. Saint Michael the Archangel. I frowned at him. "What, they were all out of Saint Jude?"

Anton's lips quirked up a bit. "He is for lost causes Querida, which you are most certainly not." He sounded a little too breathless when he said it, and it made my stomach give a little flip flop I didn't entirely trust.

"Saint Michael…" I trailed off trying to remember what he was the patron saint of. I honestly only remembered St. Jude because Morelli had made a particularly stinging crack about changing that particular saint to me after one of my car's blew up and my apartment was firebombed in the same day—just what a girl wants to hear from her sorta boyfriend at such a stressful time. I wracked my brain and came up empty, despite my Catholic upbringing—somewhere in Jersey no doubt my mother was crossing herself in horror for my immortal soul. My eyes flicked from the silver medallion to Anton's face.

"Patron Saint of Warriors," he said.

"I'm not a warrior."

"You are a fighter Querida. A stunning one at that."

I didn't know what to say to that, if felt too much like a compliment again for me to be entirely comfortable having it come out of Anton's mouth. There had to be some kind of catch.

"No Catch,"

"Tracker?" I said raising the medallion subtly between us it spun on its chain catching the candle light and sending little disks of reflected light dancing over the table cloth.

"No Tracker. Just Faith." Anton said. I didn't know what to say to that either. I didn't usually put a lot of stock in prayer—you know unless it was occasionally praying that I wasn't pregnant. And that was probably sacrilegious enough to land me a one way express ticket to Hell.

Anton's lips quirked into a crooked grin. "Thinking out loud again Querida? Dangerous for my sanity tonight." He whispered the last part, his eyes dark in the flickering candle light. I flushed and looked away. Anton rose from his chair drawing my attention when he circled to my seat. I sat very still while he slid the chain from my fingertips and secured it around my neck with careful hands. "Dance with me?" he said suddenly, warm palms cupping my bare shoulders in his hands making me shiver at the contrast between his skin and the cooler night air.

I eyed the cleared space of roof top between the tables and the quiet music flowing around us. "I don't think so."

"You will have to dance where we are going, consider this practice—a dry run if you will. I promise not to dance on your toes." I couldn't promise the same but I let him lead me to the floor.

It only took a few tentative steps to realize I still remembered quite a bit of all those all but mandatory 'Burg Girl dancing lessons so many years ago. I'd taken a few dancing classes in college too but that had focused more on Latin flavored dancing, not appropriate in the current setting—and definitely not advisable with my current companion. Some of those Latin moves were _Hot, _practically having sex while standing up and fully clothed and could give a guy the wrong idea…and Anton didn't need _any_ help in that department, if he was going to avoid getting shot—especially lately which was confusing the Hell out of me!

"This, Querida" he said, "this is how you control a room. Everyone now is watching you."

"No," I licked my lips nervously and Anton's eyes darkened. "They're watching you," I clarified.

Anton tugged me closer and I gasped, pressing one hand to his chest ready to push back. "No mi precioso tentacion," he breathed against my ear. "They are most certainly watching you. Every man here since you stepped through the doors wants to be inside you—" (My precious temptation)

"You mean _beside_ me." I said.

Anton drew his head back to pin me with a dark heated look that made my stomach swirl and lower parts clench. "No, I spoke the truth. And every woman Querida, they want to be you."

I shook my head slowly. "Only because I'm dancing with you." I said feeling my cheeks heat at the words, realizing how they sounded even as they left my mouth.

"You flatter," Anton winked and turned us again.

"I do no such thing." I shot back, a bit of anger creeping into my tone. I didn't want to flirt with him! I didn't need this confusion!

Anton gave me a long dark look through too long lashes and grinned suddenly, he spun me around again, this time with an extra flare to the twirl before he caught me against his chest again and it did suddenly feel like half the rooftop sighed when I did. I bit my lip hard enough to sting. "How does this help exactly?" I asked ignoring the feel of his hands against my lower back—lower than they had been. "If everyone is watching us how the Hell do we get anything done?"

"People see what they wish, and lust makes even the most guarded and careful man dumb."

I shot him a look and he shrugged. I guess he was including himself in that category—_oh boy_. I suddenly had the intense urge to run—down from the rooftop, out of the hotel and right back to Ranger's arms. Problem was I didn't think he wanted me in them, not the way I wanted at least, I doubted he ever would and oddly not seeing him for so long it almost made the intense ache for him go away—not completely but it helped. I hadn't realized how badly I'd needed to hear his voice until his words the other night. I'd told him I loved him, he'd never said the same—granted there hadn't been time really, he didn't know I was going to hang up on him and drive us off a bridge…I pushed those thoughts away my stomach was already starting to feel ill. "Tell me how this helps," I said, "What good is that for getting…done what we need to get done." I finished lamely.

"We will dance Querida, and men will watch, everyone will want you—" his fingers tightened. "And wives will be busy trying to remind their men that they exist, or they will be lusting after moi."

"So modest." I hissed narrowing my eyes at him.

He grinned and we spun. "I will slip away, maybe to get us drinks—maybe to speak to someone about business to be conducted at a later date, and you will need a new dance partner. Every man will be falling in line wondering if he has a chance to snatch you away when I leave you."

"Meanwhile you'll be…?"

"Planting the explosives needed to bring the rooftop down on their heads." Anton breathed against my ear one firm hand pressed between my shoulder blades holding me flush to him and I shuddered despite the fact that these people wanted me dead.

"What if they recognize me?"

"Querida you are dead,"

_Oh, Right._

"And they have seen maybe one photo, a newspaper clipping—and they have _never_ seen you like this." His tone dropped an octave and he slowly raised my palm from his chest to press his mouth lips parted hot and wet to my skin. I suddenly felt _way to close_ dancing with him. I tried to push against his chest and his hold tightened.

"Stop it." I said, his grip tightened his body melted against me instead and every part of him was hard. I sucked in an unsteady breath.

"Querida, the things I could do to you—you would not even remember another man's name."

My breath caught in my throat despite my outrage. I yanked my fingers back and he trapped my hand against his chest before I could slap him with it. _I'd heard such outrageous claims before—and except for the morning after when he'd torn my heart out as he'd walked away Ranger had come very damn close._ Hell that one night was the standard measure for all other sexual encounters in my life. I knew all too well where Joe stacked up—and it had taken me a long time to feel even some satisfaction in his bed again. It had made the months following our deal that much more depressing—_I couldn't even orgasm him out of my mind._ _Ranger'd promised in twelve hours to ruin me for all other men, and afterwards I'd suffered the true consequences._

I didn't _want_ to know how Anton stacked up—I was done with cheap substitutions just because I couldn't get what I desperately wanted, the memory of that night was less painful then the bitter disappointment of faking my way through so many others.

Anton's flawless steps stumbled and I smacked into him so hard I nearly tumbled backwards. He caught me with an iron grip—both hands wrapped around my back trapping me flush against hard lean muscles under warm silk from thigh to chest. "_God help me,"_ He breathed in Spanish against my lips looking pained. "_Once _Querida? _Only once_?"

I stared at him in shock, no idea how much of my private monologue I'd just once again spouted out loud. My cheeks flamed red and I ducked my chin turning my face away. "Let go of me," I whispered, humiliated.

"You are telling me Manoso has only filled your bed once,"

An instant flash of memory sensation so acute I broke out in full body goosebumps remembering what else he'd filled had me gasping for breath and my heart rate speeding up_. God, think of something else Stephanie_, I begged. I felt my eyes burn with tears and a spark flutter through my stomach that made my panties damp. _Fuck_.

"Once?" Anton repeated, looking stunned. "Diablo me lleve!" He dragged a hand through his hair forcing his short curls to stick up at odd angles around his forehead. He needed a haircut I absently noted before forcing my eyes away from him and out over the city. (devil take me!)

"It's none of your business—"

"Oh but it is Querida, why do you put up with it? Why do you do all this? Tell me why? You let him mark you—"

"What?" I blinked at him and Anton's hand slid down from my waist to press low between my hip bones over my panties under my dress and my cheeks flushed again and I stepped back swiftly to slap at his hand away.

"He writes _his name_ on your _underwear_ but does not keep you in his bed? _Puto idiota_!" He savagely cursed. "And you are risking your life still when you could walk away—the child is safe. You have money Querida, more than enough to start somewhere fresh—a new life one without the constant threat of death. And still you agree to do this, for what?" (Fucking idiot)

I swallowed slowly and blinked not meeting his eyes. Anton's fingers tipped my chin up trying to force me to look at him but I closed my eyes instead.

"You are risking your life Querida, for a man you have given yourself to only once? Let me take you to bed, I will make you forget him—it could save your life." His lips brushed against me feather soft heat shot down my spine and my head spun.

My hand snapped up. "Go to Hell."

Anton stared at me over the already brightening hand print on his cheek—I don't even remember deciding to slap him, it just sort of happened. He stared at me, and I swallowed watching his nostrils flare briefly as he warred with some internal beast.

"Mind your own god damn business," I said fiercely. "And it was twice." _Why the hell was I telling him any of this? I'd clearly lost my mind, or maybe it was the wine. I did have an empty stomach…_

"You said one night."

I glared at him and he tipped his head in sudden understanding. "Ah," he sighed and his jaw tightened. "You are certain you wish to do this then, after all of this?"

"All of what?" I asked glaring at him.

Anton grinned. "I see, well, you cannot blame a man for trying—love is blind they say." Anton slid a hand behind my back and simply started dancing with me again. I was too shocked to continue to hit him and my feet just sort of started dancing again, if any of the other patrons noticed our little quarrel they said nothing. "I have always thought Manoso was a stubborn fool, but know I know he is an Fucking idiot."

I scowled at him.

"Do not make that face Querida, you ruin such a beautiful night."

I rolled my eyes and thankfully at the end of the song we took our seats as our meals had arrived. We ate quietly without much talk and afterwards Anton ushered me back through the glass doors on the roof to the reception area and elevator to take us back to our floor.

"You wanna tell me what the hell that was all about?" I asked as we exited onto our floor.

"No," Anton said. "I suppose I do not." His face grew more serious, "Inside, we have much to discuss."

* * *

**TBC...**


	30. Chapter 30

**Disclaimer:** Not mine, Damn!

**Notes:** I know I said I'd give you Ranger's email to Steph, but with the way the story flowed it ended up coming out in the next bit instead. I had to shift some things around when my muse kicked me in the shin and said '_oh, oh do this_ _next!_'

I hope no one gets confused, you're going to bounce a little between POV in the next bit. This all takes place the same day (or night actually) and gets a little twisted with timelines…

I know everyone is super anxious to get R/S back together again—I am too, this is a BABE story after all; have patience with me. I've written a few of their 'back together' scenes and my laptop screen started to steam up…I hope you'll find it was worth the wait; Hang in there! Keep the faith!

**PS:** I had a few (more then a few LOL) people PM me asking if I was going to put Anton with Stephanie...there may or may not have been death threats. O_o Anton is being an alpha male, just like Ranger-not the first time Steph's had this problem (hello can you say Diesel?) You can't really fault the guy for trying to make a play-considering Steph shut him down pretty damn hard (me and my muse were both surprised she didn't knee him again!) I think he'll get back to 'business' now...doesn't mean the flirty will stop...that be like expecting Lester to become a nun...hahahaha!

Sorry I can't type anymore...now all I can picture in my head is Les cross dressing in a Habit! HAHAHAHA!

* * *

**Chapter Thirty**

* * *

**Ranger's POV**

Julie woke at quarter to eight and Ranger got up with her to heat some of the food that Ella had left for them that afternoon. Dinner was a comfortable if slightly quiet affair where Julie flipped through the catalog on the bar stool next to him with all the usual enthusiasm of a pre-teen girl when shopping and pointed to almost every bedroom set trying to decide which one she liked best before turning around to face the apartment and asking him if his desk would even fit out here.

Ranger frowned staring at the living room. "We'll work it out." He finally said, maybe he'd remodel—they could use some more space if his Babe and Julie were going to stay.

After they ate Julie asked to watch TV—it was such a normal childhood request that Ranger immediately said yes and quietly escaped to his office to do some work for downstairs, he left one of the French doors open between them so he could hear if she needed anything and noted that Julie kept the television's sound turned down so as not to disturb him.

At 9:13 pm the apartment intercom on his desk beeped and Ranger answered it with a press of one finger to find Tank on the line.

"Ranger, we got a Package in the mail, came in with the evening supply shipment USPS, it got overlooked in the shuffle at first, kinda fell between the cracks—literally. It's addressed to Julie?"

Ranger's head jerked up to look through the French doors of his office to the living room where Julie was almost asleep again, curled into the cushions under a blanket she'd dragged out from the bedroom to the couch. He'd seen his babe do the same thing on more than one occasion he recalled now; he'd have to remember to add a few throws to the living room for them. "Have you opened it yet?" He asked Tank.

"No, wanted to let you know it was here and find out what we should do with it." Tank said. "It's one of those prepaid-flat rate envelopes the girls used to ship stuff to PO Boxes all over the states. Shipping post marks it as leaving the Dominican Republic last week." There's a beat of silence on the other end. "That was before the crash, should I get a team together?"

"Give me a moment, don't do anything." Ranger said and hung up. He went to the living room and stood at the end of the couch staring down at Julie's closed eyelids. A few seconds later she opened one eye.

"That's creepy Dad. Stephanie does that and it's just weird."

He ignored that tidbit, filing it away to ask his babe about later—she'd obviously picked up the habit from him. He'd lost count of the number of times he'd broken into her apartment at night just to watch her sleep. "Did you mail yourself something from the Dominican Republic?"

Julie bolted upright tossing the covers away, "Oh! The rest of the pictures!"

"The rest?"

"Yes, those other ones were just the Puerto Rico photos. We had to move twice and I didn't want them to get ruined in the car chase so I mailed them to myself here."

"Tank has them downstairs; I'll go and bring them up."

"I can go with you," Julie offered but then she yawned so wide he thought her jaw might crack.

"No, I got it, rest nina, rest." He was already moving towards the door before she could argue.

"Okay," Julie called over the back of the couch as he grabbed the apartment keys from the silver dish and then closed the door behind him. He walked to the elevator then by-passed it and took the stairs. He hadn't made it to the gym at all today, and he'd treated his body like shit the night before, he might as well get in a little physical exertion while he could.

He reached five quickly heart beating a little faster in his ears but not out of breath. His heart rate was normal again by the time he'd made the short distance to Tank's office door. Tank looked up when he walked in. "I was expecting a phone call, should I call in a hazmat team or something?" The big man asked eyeing the package with a raised eyebrow.

Ranger shook his head once in the negative. "Photos. Julie mailed them to herself." He grabbed the heavy plastic enforced paper envelope off the desk and ripped it open. There were again several stacks of photos inside, and a few memory cards that tumbled out onto Tank's desk. Tank and Ranger quickly started gathering them into stacks when Lester came in.

"I heard there was a package?" He pushed the door shut behind him.

"Bobby still alive?" Tank asked, Lester still looked a little pale for his skin tone but Bobby had been half-dead.

"He's fine, he was complaining his mouth tasted like it had a wet dog in it a few hours ago when he woke up, I told him to stop being such a pussy and he shot me the bird. Last time I saw him he was sleeping like a baby again." Lester shrugged.

"Do us all—and Bobby's liver a favor," Tank said, "Next time you two get it in your heads to out drink each other—remind him of this and then _Don't_."

Lester snorted grabbing half of a stack off Tank's desk. He started flipping through the photos while Ranger and Tank did the same, turning them the right way as they went each of them slowing in their sift through the pile or even pausing completely for a few brief moments to study the images in their hands. No one spoke for several minutes, Ranger had an almost smile tugging at his lips before he found it.

"SonofaBitch!" He snarled making Les flinch slightly beside him and raise his eyes to stare at him.

"What?!" Tank bellowed already reaching for the photo in Ranger's hand, standing from his chair to grab it across the desk. He blinked at the image, than cursed under his breath while Lester grabbed it next. "Is that…I know that Asshole!" Les said tapping the face in the photo. "Isn't that…"

"Trevino," Ranger growled flipping over another photo and tossing it onto the desk—there he was _again_. Antoni Trevino. Special Forces, Black Ops, Spook, Mercenary, Hit man…general all-around pain in the fucking ass Trevino!

"Guy's like a cockroach!" Tank said. Ranger growled again almost crumpling the next photo in his hand, Trevino and _his babe, HIS_ on a beach somewhere.

"The Fuck was Trevino doing with them?" Les said still flipping through his photos. He tossed another two onto the desk also with the Trevino in them. "He had to know, who they were, look at this fucking photo Julie looks exactly like you!"

And Trevino had no doubt seen the photo Ranger carried in a hidden pocket of his boot that had his Babe and him leaned against the car outside the bail bonds office. He took it with him on a few really shitty missions—the one's he wasn't certain he'd come back from just in case. It was dangerous but he couldn't help himself, some nights in hell he just needed to get away for a few moments by looking at her smiling face…

"They're wearing different clothes in these photos," Tank said.

"Different days," Les concluded.

"How long was he with them, and why?" Tank barked hands on his hips glaring at the photos like he could intimidate and answer out of them.

"Better question is, where is he now?" Ranger said.

"Fuck you think he's still with her? Shit, is he after the hit?!"

_Two point five million put his Babe completely in Trevino's normal price range.__ "_He'd better not be_," _He snarled_. __Not if the motherfucker wanted to live._ Ranger snarled. He was already considering kill him, _slowly_ just for being near her in _any way, if he was trying to hurt her…or Fuck get her into his bed..._White hot anger flashed through him like lightening, he could practically feel the adrenaline coming out of his skin, the urge to feel something break under his hands curling his lip into a snarl and turning his hands into white-knuckled fists. Ranger stood frozen seething quietly for a moment, while the other men waited watching him carefully, holding their breath. Forget the bullet Ranger owed him; he was going to take that asshole apart piece by piece with his bare hands, and he was going to enjoy every second of it.

Ranger grabbed the photos with Trevino in them and turned on his heel leaving the office, a second later Les and Tank were on his six following him to the elevator. "Where you going?" Tank asked before he hit the button for up or down.

"To talk to Julie." Ranger said, "Call Trevino's handler now! See if you can't coax that little weasel into telling you if he's on assignment in a hell hole somewhere." Maybe it had been a coincidence, just some guy on a beach that looked like him, Trevino was originally from the island, had family there as far as Ranger knew, it could be a distant relative…

"And if he's not?"

"Find out how to contact him, and express the _urgency_ of this request." Ranger said fixing Tank with a glare that said more than the words.

"Maybe we should do this in person," Les said behind him, a note of enthusiasm coloring into his tone. "Maybe he needs a little encouragement. I'm down with that, I've got this new knife—never been used, and I love shooting people in the foot," Les added, "I don't get to do it enough, let's hope he doesn't cooperate—at least not at first."

They could shoot the guy in the knee if it got the answers out of him…course being a government employee that might complicate matters but Ranger didn't really care right now. "Find him!" he barked and the elevator doors closed between them. He fobbed his way to seven and shot down the hallway opening the door to find Julie wasn't on the couch. "Julie?"

She called from the vicinity of the bedroom—maybe the bathroom, and a moment later came out. She took one look at his expression and stopped short, a flash of nervousness crossing her face before she covered it up.

Ranger consciously tried to unclench his jaw and relax his posture some. "Julie, Who is this?" He asked holding up the photo in one hand.

"That's Anton." She said without even having to move closer to the photo or look at it. "He's an asshole, but he's mostly harmless."

Ranger sucked in a breath through clenched teeth, his heart rate ramping up. _Motherfucker._"What did you do?" he said trying to keep his tone carefully neutral.

"Nothing bad," Julie said eyeing him carefully, her eyes a little bit too wide. "He showed up when we were looking for passports to replace the one's Hector tampered with."

Shit. That had been months ago. "Julie, is he still with Stephanie?" _please say no…_

Julie's lips formed a tight thin line and her eyes darted away to the kitchen instead of answering.

The knots in his stomach tightened. "Julie, Anton is dangerous." Her eyes flicked back to him but her expression remained the same, tight lipped. Literally. "Anton is a Mercenary, he's a hitman for hire—"

"And he hates you." She said matter of factly.

Ranger drew back staring at her, _she knew who he was?_ "Why were you with him?"

"People found us—bad people, lots of them. Anton said he owed you a favor, he said you had a _misunderstanding_ the last time you'd met."

Ranger snorted. There'd been _several._ Almost every time Ranger and that Asshole had crossed paths. They were both predators at the top of their respective food chains; Alpha males that had trouble existing in the same room without violence taking place. "I was trying to protect an asset. Anton was trying to remove it." They'd been playing for opposing sides, and even on the same team friendly fire was a distinct possibility between the two. He hadn't been surprised to find Anton trying to stab him in the back quick reflexes had saved him—but he still had the scar.

"Julie I need to know how to contact Stephanie, she needs to get the hell away from him as fast as she can—I need to go get her."

"You can't." Julie said.

"Julie—"

"We planned this for a reason. If she doesn't finish this they'll never stop coming after her."

His heart nearly stopped, his palms started to sweat, he had to work to keep his tone even and not snarl his words. "Who Julie? Who's coming after her? Tell me Nina so I can do something about it."

"You can't," Julie said.

"Julie—"

"No! You're not always around okay? And when you leave those people you're so worried about getting to you—they come after us instead."

Ranger froze.

"They sent Scrog, they sent hit men—they tried to kill us because everyone thinks we're easy to do away with."

"Julie," he swallowed pulse pounding in his throat. "No one sent Scrog,"

Julie shot him a look that said, don't be stupid. "So what the guy just went whacko all on his own? He learned all about you by himself with no resources of his own? Come on Dad, do the math. Scrog was a plant," her eyes shot to his chest—where he'd taken the bullet. "They used him to grab me and Steph, and it almost paid off."

His phone started ringing in his pocket, he pulled it out glancing at the screen, Tank.

"Talk to me," he barked.

"Guy sang like a canary, guess he heard you were pissed off through the grapevine." Tank said. "He's got a number for you, Trevino's stateside—he knows that, said the guys been freelance for the last few months. Asked for some personal time to deal with family matters, Rickler-his handler said he knows he was in Puerto Rico four months ago—he thought it was because his grandmother is there, he didn't make the connection to Stephanie or the Kid."

"Trevino's with Stephanie," Ranger said and Tank cursed in his ear. "Julie was just telling me he's been with them since the beginning."

"No he wasn't," Julie said sounding indignant. "He just kept popping up," She waved one hand. "He'd drop something off and leave again—he showed up the night the apartment got firebombed…"

"Did she say _firebombed_?"

"She did, and she's about to explain. I have a feeling we've been getting the edited version of the last few month's events."

Across the room Julie's face screwed up and she blushed bright pink.

"How about I come up there with Les, I'm not sure Bobby's square for this just yet."

Ranger hung up and pointed his finger towards the living room seat opposite the couch his expression carefully controlled—like his tone. "Julie, have a seat."

"Oh boy," Julie said.

* * *

**TBC...**

So now he knows! *dun dun DUUUN!*

Ranger's going to Finish that Asshole like a cheesecake! LMAO (sorry I couldn't resist, bonus points if you know what that's from!)

In all honestly, Ranger's probably more likely to de-vein the guy like a shrimp...right after he breaks all his fingers and shoots him in the kneecaps...

So violent! xD


	31. Chapter 31

**Disclaimer: ** Not mine, Drats!

**Notes:** I'm not completely happy with this chapter, but I've fussed and fussed with it and now I'm leaving it alone. : /

_Huge thanks to all the readers and reviewers almost 1000 reviews as I type this, Holy Crap on a Cracker! O_O_

The next section might be delayed by a day or two. (Send me warm happy dialog thoughts people!) I've got two sections written after that...but Anton and Ranger are NOT cooperating. I'm trying to get their conversation/dialog right-and they mostly snarl and attempt to throw furniture at each others heads. Which is difficult to do since in the scene they're not even in the same room together.

I swear to Cripes, If I cant get them to sorta cooperate by this afternoon I'm going to take them BOTH out back and spray them down with the garden hose until they say 'Uncle'...and trust me, that thing is cold I used it to break up cat fights. _ *EG*_

* * *

**Chapter Thirty One**

* * *

**Stephanie's POV**

Anton shut the door to the suite behind us locking it and I moved farther into the room, sitting down on the chase to remove my shoes. The heel wasn't that high really, but they were new—not broken in, and we'd done quite a few turns and moves my ankles hadn't been familiar with and that my feet hadn't appreciated. I rubbed at my soles, making sure that my dress kept my legs covered and I wasn't giving Anton any kind of peep show.

"I'm going to shower," Anton said snatching something out of his overnight bag beside the sofa. He tossed a tablet onto the armrest while he searched through it. He didn't ask me to join him, not _exactly_ a first...his expression was sour, definitely a scowl when he stood up and walked away.

"I thought we were going to talk!" I said to his back.

"After," he snapped and shut the door to the bedroom with a firm kick. It slammed shut between us.

_Okay, I wasn't stupid_. Anton was upset about something, it was _pretty_ obvious. _Hell it was pretty much written across the sky in blazing lights! _ He was brooding, hard, probably because I'd slapped him—my hand still kinda of tingled from it even now. I _had_ hit him pretty hard. Hell, I'd slapped the Bejeezes out of him! If anyone had ever slapped me that hard my head probably would have spun around! I tried to feel guilty about that for all of two seconds then realized I couldn't—it _was_ his fault, it was simply instinct on my part. Just like the kick to the balls a few months ago, guy shouldn't have surprised me!

Part of me did feel like I should apologize though. A small part, mind you, but it was there. I paused for a moment realizing I'd never once had the instinct to knock the shit out of Ranger when he behaved the same way…_don't go there Stephanie_, I scolded pushing those thoughts away.

I dropped my foot to the floor and heard the shower kick on, the sound of the pipes very muffled through the thick walls and door. I looked around and noticed a box that wasn't here before dinner sitting on the coffee table—I wasn't sure how I'd overlooked it before. I stood up and pulled it towards me then sat back down. I pulled the lid off and found a bunch of clothing items I didn't recognize, one of them was obviously a bra—but it had a weird pocket built into its underside…another was a tank top in a stretch black material…also with an oddly gun shaped pocket this time under the armpit. There was something that looked like a girdle…scratch that…three something's—all with the same built in pockets in different places…and a pair of, I kid you not, black satin panties with a very tiny girly pink bow on the front—they looked like those control top things you'd see in the department store—but this pair had pockets built into the front one on each side, near the hipbones they definitely didn't belong on a rack at Macy's.

Somehow I didn't think these were crafty new places to keep your cellphone…

_The Hell?_ I dropped them all back in the box and set the lid back on it with a frown. I had an inkling of what these items were for, but I wasn't positive, or more accurately, most of my brain and none of my nerves wanted to think about it. _Knowing_ what was coming and planning it, thinking about it, enacting it…holding the honest to God items of the trade in my hands nearly sent me into a nervous tail spin. I figured either way Anton would probably explain when he stopped sulking behind the bathroom door.

I grabbed the tablet off the arm chair Anton had abandoned next to his overnight bag for the shower and booted it up. I didn't have to use his password—which was good because I didn't know it. The home screen had a '_Guest'_ Login just like a computer laptop. Only it no longer said _Guest_, now it was labeled '_Stephanie_.'

I tried not to think about that either. It certainly didn't make me feel any better about slapping him earlier. In fact I was starting to feel a whole hell of a lot of guilt.

It took me only two minutes to find the news I'd been dreading. The Trenton Times said it best I guess, in cringe-inducing capital letters no less:

**_BOMBSHELL BOUNTY HUNTER TURNED FUGATIVE HUNT HAS DEVASTATING END!_**

The subtitle below it wasn't much better.

**_Tuesday Night's High Speed Chase Ends in Watery Grave for Fugitive Plum!_****_Young Child's Safe! _**

_The article beside the main column read:_

**_Why Did She Do It?_**_The Interviews:__Friends and Family Tell-All!_

I groaned, even dead it _never_ ended! I wondered who they'd talked to, praying it wasn't _Joyce_ Barnhardt…I mean I was dead, but Good God she'd probably enjoy dragging my carcass through the mud one more time! She was a cockroach after all… And wasn't there some kind of limit on how many exclamation points a newspaper could add to a heading? _Jeeze_.

Below the words was a grainy black and white photo that was obviously Ranger even with the distortion. He was sitting in a dark parking lot; a little dark haired girl that could only be Julie wrapped in his arms his head bowed and pressed to the top of hers. Staring at the photo I felt my eyes burn and a lump start to build in my throat. I quickly swiped my finger over the screen to remove it and pulled up my email instead. I was supposed to be dead but Julie might have sent me something...or possibly Hector before we left... Then I froze, the small lump became a boulder I could barely breathe around.

_Holy Crap._

I had _one_ new email.

And it was from Batman.

My heart started to race. My finger hovered over the tablet's screen, hand trembling wondering what the Hell it was going to say. My mind kept circling with the endless possibilities making me feel a little light headed and faint. I leaned my head back against the couch cushions and closed my eyes listening to the muffled sound of water running in the other room. Did I want to know? _Of course I did_. I was also _terrified_.

What if he was furious with me for taking Julie over that bridge? For faking my death? For keeping him and Rangeman in the dark for so many months? For stealing from him, and endangering Julie when we found out people were after us that were trying to hurt him… For saying I loved him when I was no doubt on speaker phone and probably embarrassed the hell out of him in front of his men…Hell for hanging up on him!

I tried to swallow and my throat made a croaking sound.

_What if he hated me?_

My stomach started to hurt.I picked my head up blew out a deep breath and tapped the screen. It took about five seconds for my frantic brain to finally focus on the words and process them as actual English, and what they meant.

_Never been more proud of you Babe._

_I need you, Please come home. __ – __R_

The flash of pleasure that always shot through my chest at his praise was quickly followed by a wave of intense worry at the next sentence_.__He said he needed me.__Ranger had never needed me; as far as I knew Ranger didn't need anyone, he was a one man show.__Maybe it had to do with Julie? Was she okay?__She'd been fine when she left the vehicle, but the water had been damn cold, what if she was sick?__What if she'd gotten hurt in the crash or in the water I hadn't noticed…shit…_

I got up and immediately grabbed the phone off the bar and punched in the number for Ranger's seventh floor apartment from memory and then my finger froze over the _send_ button.

_Crap._

I couldn't call Haywood with this phone. I was supposed to be dead. Ranger was supposed to know I wasn't—and judging by the email Julie _had _told him_._But if I called Haywood I knew Ranger would have the call traced…and he'd have my number_…_he'd call.

_I'd hear his voice….Ohgod._

The ache started up in my stomach again, and my chest hurt. I stood there next to the kitchen's breakfast bar the shower running quietly in the other room, barefoot in a four hundred dollar dress debating with myself. After a moment's hesitation it was no contest. I had to make sure Julie was okay. I hit '_send'_ and pressed the phone to my ear with shaking hands.

_I was in New York, _I told myself_—__New York is huge—_even if they got a cellphone tower signal they'd have blocks and blocks to work with, we'd just have to move... And Ranger and company would never think to look for me in such a swanky hotel—they'd take one look at it and know there was no way I could afford it!

Well, at least I couldn't before I'd become a millionaire by killing myself and collected my own hit money. My life in the last few months has gone from occasionally odd to beyond weird. I still wasn't sure what the hell to do with that overwhelming information—_two and a half million dollars?! It was such a staggering number I could barely wrap my head around it…I should definitely find out how to pull out enough to pay Rangeman back what I owed them at least…_

Julie answered on the third ring—"Hello?" She sounded sleepy. I glanced at the clock on the microwave it was only 9:16pm.

"Julie."

"Steph!"

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine—why are you calling, are you okay?"

"I'm fine too. Your Dad sent me an email."

"He did? What did it say?" Julie asked me and I bit my lip.

"Nothing much," I lied. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I wasn't sure what it meant," I mean the first part was pretty self-explanatory…

"Oh. Maybe he sent it when he was drunk." Julie said

"What?!" I shrieked._Ranger got Drunk?!__Holy Shit!__Mister 'My Body is a Temple' too good for sugar or trans-fats; got Drunk?!_

_When_ the Hell was _This?! _

"Yeah, the night of the crash—he was all normal and calm until we got home and I kept waiting for him to say something, or _do _something and he just wouldn't! I…I kinda got mad at him. I sorta screamed at him and slammed the door in his face." Julie admitted sheepishly.

_Holy Crap on a cracker!__If anyone else did that to Batman they'd be…Toast_.

"I know," Julie said, _so guess I said that out loud?_ "I tried to fall asleep—but I was so angry at him I just kind of ended up searching his room instead…"

"Julie!" And okay…maybe I'd kind of did the same thing when I stayed there…I bit my lip this time with guilt.

"What?! You know he has an entire drawer in his closet filled with your stuff?"

I cringed, I didn't want her reading too much into that. "I had to stay there a couple times when people were after me, I might have left some clothes on accident…"

"No," Julie said. "It's got photos, and jewelry and stuff."

"Must be from my apartment," I reasoned though I hadn't had much jewelry—maybe a cheap watch and a few earrings. I'd figured my parents would store most of my stuff in the garage or back in my old room at their house—or in storage…Hell maybe Trenton would put it all up in a memorial 'Bombshell Bounty Hunter Museum'. Ughn.

So, _why did Ranger have it?_

"Um, you own a two Karat diamond necklace?" Julie said.

"No!" _What the Hell?_ "What else is in there?" I said, my voice shaking a little bit. _Did Ranger have a drawer full of another woman's jewelry?_ It was like a kick to the gut. I could see Ranger dating someone who could afford that kind of accessory—someone I could never compete with. A wave of jealousy so intense it made me dizzy washed through me—and then I felt so sick to my stomach I thought I might throw up right there on the rug. _Oh god, maybe we shouldn't talk about this…maybe I didn't want to know…_

"There's a diamond bracelet, and another necklace, a watch…it's all shiny and pretty—no diamonds but I'm pretty sure it's not my Dad's…" I was feeling sicker by the minute. I heard a ruffling scrapping sound and realized Julie was actually sifting through the drawer as we talked about it…so Ranger must be out. At least I didn't have to talk to him about it…or anything else for that matter. I wasn't sure what my voice sounded like but I felt like I was going to choke.

"There's um, a pair of panties in here…"

"What?!" I was going to be sick, I could feel the acid burning the back of my throat. I swallowed a few times.

"Yeah, just one pair, nothing like the cotton one's you wear…" Julie trailed off and she sounded angry again.

_Calm down._ I told myself. _Deep Breaths._ Maybe they _were_ my underwear—I mean I hadn't always worn cotton. I _used_ to date Morelli off and on; I _used_ to have a reason to wear a lot of lace an pretty satin-stuff. I was still feeling pretty sick though; my pep-talk wasn't really helping. "Do they say Rangeman on them?"

"No, they're black lace…and its one of those butt-floss things."

A thong. I bent forward to put my head down between my knees and did some deep breathing, something very close to panic fluttering through my chest making me dizzy.

"The photos are all you guys,"

"Huh?" I said.

"They're all pictures of you and my Dad…or mostly pictures of you…but it doesn't look like you knew anyone was taking them because you're not looking at the camera."

_Did Ranger find out I had another Stalker? __Did I have another Stalker? __What the Hell was going on?!_

"What kind of pictures?" I said moving carefully to sitting down on the couch. Why would Ranger have another woman's jewelry _and_ photos of me in a drawer? If I were Ranger's new girlfriend would I want my stuff kept with another woman's pictures? ...probably not. Maybe the jewelry used to belong to a girlfriend but she wasn't around anymore.

_Right._ Because most girlfriends leave behind two karat diamonds when they break up! _Jeeze Steph, yeah right!_

"Uh oh," Julie said, then she whispered "I gotta go Dad's back…"

"Don't tell him I called!" I practically shouted on impulse—my heart in my throat and my stomach churning. If they didn't know I called they wouldn't know to track us.

"Got it," Julie whispered and hung up.

_Oh boy._ I didn't feel any better. After talking to Julie I had a permanent bad taste in the back of my throat and my stomach felt like I might have a virus. I set the phone on the coffee table and sat back against the cushions wallowing in the feeling for a bit.

A few minutes later the water shut off and a few minutes after that Anton came back out dressed in a pair of silver basketball shorts slung low on his hips—and nothing else. I swallowed and tried not to look.

He had something in his hands, guns I realized, little ones—they looked like toys in his large long fingered hands. I knew better. He set them on the coffee table between us, and took a seat across from me on the couch. "What the hell happened to you?" He said after a moment. Guess I didn't look so calm after my talk with Julie.

"I'm sorry I slapped you." I told the ceiling.

"So if I kissed you now?"

"I'd knee you in the nuts." I said.

Anton was just looking at me hands clasped together, elbows on his bare knees when I dropped my chin from staring down the ceiling over my head. He opened his mouth to say something and his bag started ringing. He leaned his ribs against the couch's end, shoulder hanging over so his hand could dig it out. He stared at the screen for a moment and then sighed loudly. He rubbed his free hand over his eyes looking tired. "Querida, go take a shower, put on something comfortable—I have to show you how to wear these things before I leave tomorrow for a short trip and I would like to get some sleep before people possibly start to shoot at me again."

I nodded not meeting his eyes and got up. I shut the bedroom door between us as he answered his phone in a quiet voice leaned back against the cushions and staring out the darkened windows.

Seeing him sitting there before I shut the bedroom door, the blank guarded expression on his face very much like Rangers only made me feel worse. I shut the bathroom door too putting as many barriers between us as I physically could and took the hottest shower I could stand. With the water beating down over me I was left with just my uncomfortable thoughts wondering why it felt like every man on earth I didn't want, desired me. I grimaced.

The man I was in love with, who I was willing to do anything for saw me as nothing more than a passing fancy, an amusement. Anton told me if I could stand on my own—if I didn't have to fear Ranger's enemies that he would be with me, really with me, but now after months of training and planning I'd seen the look of shock and doubt on his face tonight when he learned the truth.

Everyone thought Ranger and I were 'together' at least a little bit, but now Anton knew he had only been with me once. One night, and some seriously hot kisses...the occasional heavy petting. Anton clearly thought I was an idiot, about to get myself killed over a figment of my imagination.

_Was I an idiot? __Should I walk away from this? __Could I? __I had the ability…I had the money…_

_I knew I couldn't._

Ranger said he needed me…but what did that mean?

He needed me as a friend? He needed to talk to me about Julie? He needed me to testify against Ron and Rachael; He needed me to come back so he could press charges for stealing his funds?

My chest ached and I tried to scrub it away with lots of soap but I couldn't seem to make even a dent in the sensation. Even if Ranger didn't want me—I had to be strong for Julie. In the last four months she's somehow become as much my child as Rangers; I wanted her safe, and protected and happy. She was just as much a target as I had been—maybe more so, and she needed all the protection she could get.

It didn't matter if Anton thought I was a fool, and if Ranger would never love me back the way I wanted him too. Life was short, I was in love with him, no one else would ever come close to holding all of my heart the way he did without even trying. I also loved Julie, and I knew Julie at least loved me, hell my relationship with Julie in four months was stronger then the relationship with my own mother after thirty-something years.

And that, I reminded myself, was worth dying for.

* * *

**TBC...**


	32. Chapter 32

**Disclaimer: ** Not mine!

**Notes: ** HOLY RUSTED METAL BATMAN! *ahem* As I post this, 'Gone Girl' has hit over 1000 reviews. Wow. Just, Wow.

I am blown away you guys! You make me feel like my dream of one day being a published author might be a reality!

(and to everyone waiting for the R/S reunion scene, I wrote it last night and this morning while fighting with the dialog for this chapter...and I don't think it's been done before; And I think you're going to like it...and I think my eyeglasses fogged up a few times it was so steamy! Yow! O_o I just have to write the chapter in between to get you guys the rest of the way there and then Voila! It's yours to enjoy! So maybe Tuesday? or faster if my muse gets a sugar high...send us happy thoughts!)

* * *

**Chapter Thirty-Two**

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**Ranger's POV**

_ "__Julie, have a seat."_

_"__Oh boy," Julie said._

She moved slowly towards the indicated living room chair—singled out from the sofa and all by itself with the heavy weighing trepidation of one anticipating and dreading the inevitable interrogation of an irate parent.

"Just remember you said you couldn't hate me," Julie said.

"I don't hate you Julie, I'm scared for Stephanie—and I need answers."

Before Julie could comment on that there was a knock on the door behind him and Ranger turned and opened it to let both Les and Tank in. Tank immediately offering him a piece of paper with a ten digit phone number scrawled across it. "Trevino," He said in explanation nodding his head towards it his mouth set in a grim firm line.

Ranger memorized the number with one quick glance from years of mental practice and military training and then crinkled the paper and stuffed it into the front right pocket of his cargo pants. Julie was staring at him when he turned again. "Julie," he started then paused, unsure where to begin—this wasn't a foreign enemy that needed grilling, it was his own kid! Ranger was suddenly faced with the realization that other than a lot of angry stern looks—which never seemed to bother Julie when coming from him, there wasn't a whole lot of integration practices in his wheel house that didn't involve knifes or finger breaking. He stood for a moment mulling that over.

"What do you want to know?" Julie said suddenly looking calm again—like she'd realized the source of his hesitation and was having mercy on him.

"Where are they?" Ranger said.

Julie frowned. "Don't know, can't say; Next question."

Lester had circled to stand beside Julie's lone chair just after arriving—perhaps to take on his normal integration roll when paired with them of _Good Cop_ to Ranger's _Bad Cop_ and Tanks _Terrifyingly big-I'll-break-you-in-half-if-you-don't-talk-Cop_. Ranger watched as Lester's eyebrows rose in surprise at her quick response and attitude even when faced with both angry and imposing versions of Ranger and Tank, something military men with years of training had trouble dealing with.

"Where did you meet Trevino?" Tank said.

"In a park," Julie shot back.

Lester's other eyebrow was crawling up. His expression clearly showed his surprised line of thinking—who the Hell taught Julie how to be calm and cool while being interrogated? The look he shot Ranger over her head said _this apple didn't fall far from the tree!_

"Where was the park?" Ranger said his expression tight, lips turned down into a light frown.

"By the beach," she said, then caught his darkening expression and added, "in San Juan," then she looked at her hands.

"What did he want?"

"We," Julie clarified, "wanted passports—we, well—Steph went to a few bars, asked around until we got a number of someone who could help us. He was the guy that showed up."

"So he gave you passports."

"No. He wanted Steph to do a job first."

"What kind of job?" Ranger growled, ugly possibilities swirling through his head.

"Go into a bar and identify a guy from a picture he had."

"That doesn't sound so bad," Les said, obviously noticing his distaste.

Ranger shot him a look and ignored his comment. "So she did this job…"

"Nope, they went to the location and someone blew Anton's jeep up."

Behind her Lester's face split into a wide grin and Ranger leaned forward over the back of the couch hands closing tighter over the cushions between them. "Then what happened?" He said liking all of this less and less.

"Anton told us we were being hunted—by some really not nice people. Our options were kinda limited. We couldn't come home or Steph would get arrested for kidnapping me, you weren't around to call for help, and Anton offered us a deal."

"Which was?" He kept his tone carefully even, with Trevino the deal could have been almost anything the guy was a complete weasel.

"Some of the people after us were also looking for him, and he said if Steph helped him lure them out and we got rid of them together—but made it look like we did it ourselves that people would take note and they'd leave Steph alone again because they'd realize she could defend herself. He said people kept coming after her because all she did was hide and depend on you guys to defend her. He said it would work." Julie was looking at her hands again. "It mostly worked, until the contract went out."

"Julie—Trevino could have been lying to you the whole time, the guys a…"

"Piece of shit asshole?" Julie supplied ignoring his frown. "Yeah, we know, but the devil you know or…" she shrugged and trailed off for a moment. "He seemed on the level, he taught us things we needed to know languages, weapons, self-defense and hand-to-hand combat techniques."

"Hold up, Bomber was taking self-defense and learning how to use guns? She was actually carrying them?" Tank broke in behind him obviously not believing it—Hell they'd been trying to get her to learn that stuff to protect herself for years!

"Yeah, Steph took it really seriously too. She carries everywhere she goes. We were training and learning and working out…"

"Steph doesn't work out." Lester said. "I mean she sorta did when she worked here for the last few weeks before you guys did your whole 'disappearing' thing."

"Stephanie was running three miles every other day on the beach and doing Pilates with me." Julie shot back turning over her shoulder to glare at her Uncle. "You know sometimes you guys gave her as much shit as those asshole cops did." She crossed her arms over her chest and flopped back against the seat cushion fixing him with a sour look.

"Whoa," Lester said holding up his hands, "No one's trying to give you or Beautiful shit, we're just surprised that's all, Steph would start exercise routines—she'd just never stick with it."

"Of course not!" Julie shot back. "What did you expect! You guys either pushed her to do what you were doing—which was too much, way too fast and she'd get sore and discouraged and quit or she was so worried about embarrassing herself in front of you she would just avoid it!"

Behind her Lester frowned and his expression said _Guilty_, and Ranger realized he felt it as well how many times had he pushed her to run—hell he'd made her run until she'd puked. They'd all treated his Babe like a military recruit when it came to getting in shape. Someone who didn't have a choice but to follow orders and get in shape the same way everyone else in basic training camp did—they'd forgotten that none of them were recruits, and of course to them running a few miles was easy—so was lifting weights, or boxing and sparring in the ring downstairs in the gym, but to Steph who never did any of these things everything was new, and painful especially when she was trying to keep up with them!

He'd never considered how it felt in Basic at eighteen being forced to run five to eight miles until he'd puked, and he'd been in pretty damn good shape even then. Hell Tank had puked too, Lester had puked too despite running track in high school—but that was after Basic training and it was most likely alcohol induced. The dumbass.

He'd forgotten how intimidating being surrounded by his men could really be—mostly because his babe never seemed to be bothered or intimidated by their size or history—but that didn't mean she didn't run around feeling inferior to them in other ways, and that that feeling didn't stop her from following through because she got discouraged . He'd never considered that their constant pressure stopped her from even trying to change in the first place!

When she came home obviously a lot of other things were going to have to change. Ranger sighed and Lester blinked at him. They'd address this later, time to push on to other more important things. "Julie, Anton might have helped you before—but he's not a nice guy. He's a mercenary—he's not above killing for money, and there's a huge contract on Stephanie's life right now."

"He's not going to kill Stephanie." Julie snorted.

"Julie,"

"He's not going to kill Stephanie," Julie said and she suddenly looked uncomfortable again.

Warning bells were going off in Ranger's head. _What was Julie not saying?_ _Was Stephanie sleeping with him?!_ He pushed that thought down before the rage could build, he had to remain calm. "Maybe not himself, but he could get her killed going after these men…"

"He's not going to let anything happen to her, he'd die first."

_Fuck.__She was His Babe, His!__Anton was a dead man._ Ranger felt his teeth clench and closed his eyes to take a deep calming breath.

"I'm not going to tell you where she is so you can forget it." Julie said. "and I doubt Anton is going to tell you anything either, and even if he did I doubt Steph would agree to just come back and hide up here until the threat's taken care of because that _doesn't work_—people see that; they see her hiding, they don't see her taking care of herself, and that makes her an even bigger target. If she starts to defend herself, less people are going to think it's a good idea to give her problems."

He wanted to believe that, he did, but it was just too dangerous to risk getting Stephanie killed… "Julie, I need you to tell me where she is so I can make sure she's okay."

"She's fine! Three months of planning is at stake here, Don't ruin this!"

All three of them stared at her after that comment. "How do you know she's fine Nina?" Les said.

Julie crossed her arms over her chest and stared up at the ceiling and said. "Well, Shit."

"Has she contacted you?"

"I meant in general," Julie said.

"No you didn't," Les shot back.

Julie sighed. "This isn't fair." She said. "Three against one is clearly cheating! She got your email, and she wanted to make sure I was okay,"

It was like a slap in the face. She got his email and spoke to Julie but not him? _God, maybe he was too late…_

"That's it, enough of this shit. Just call Anton—tell him to if he doesn't tell us where she is or get the hell out of the states on his own in the next four hours we're coming for him." Tank said.

"That will be an interesting conversation," Julie said. "He said you guys had a falling out—but it didn't sound like there'd ever really been an '_In._' He thought if he helped us stay safe that you and Tank would refrain from trying to kill him the next time you meet…I guess that's not in the cards." Julie was eyeing him again probably noting the murderous expression on his face. He tried to calm himself down without much success.

"Are you asking me not to hurt him?" _If she was fucking him…_ His hands clenched to fists.

Julie shrugged, "I'm saying he kept us alive, and taught us some pretty useful things—I'm not suggesting you make him your new drinking buddy…"

"Yeah, that would never work," Tank said under his breath.

"You could refrain from planning to kill him before you've even had a chance to talk to him." Julie said. "Although, on second thought speaking to him probably won't improve things. It makes me want to kill him."

Lester grinned, "Tell Bobby I'm dumping him—from now on I wanna partner and run security sweeps with the kid."

Tank said nothing but Ranger could feel the annoyance radiating behind him. "Boss?" he said.

Ranger reached for his phone and punched in the number Tank had given him. It rang three times before someone answered it.

"Manoso," Antoni said.

"How did you know?"

"Rickler called just before you did. He's a wet rag with no spine to speak of, took you a long time—let me guess integrating your own kid?"

Ranger snarled.

"How is the Nina? Cute kid but she's got a wicked temper. Can't imagine where she gets it…"

"Cut the Bullshit. Where the Hell is Stephanie?"

"She's _busy_,"

"If you've done something to her I swear to God I will kill you."

In front of him Julie was shaking her head and mouthed, '_he's baiting you._'

Antoni chuckled in his ear, but there was no humor in the dark sound. "Manoso, I know you don't think very highly of me but honestly—I would never do anything to such a beautiful woman that she didn't _want_ me to."

Ranger froze. It was like all the air had been sucked out of the room. He stormed across the living room and slammed the bedroom door behind him. "If you've touched her—" he snarled into the phone.

"Difficult not to," Antoni said. "Although maybe you would disagree. I must admit I found it difficult to believe at first but _One time_ Manoso? Really, _only once_? You made this only too easy for me!" Ranger felt his teeth grind and his hands start to shake. "I had no idea after all our blow-ups you had such…_restraint_." Antoni continued. "Or maybe it's true what they say? I always thought them vicious rumors, you know how military men talk shit like old ladies, but Stephanie told me you are _not the marrying type_, I had no idea you felt that way…tell me do you write your name on the big man's underwear as well?"

"_Fuck you Trevino_. I will rip your spine out of your throat. She's _Mine_. If you touch her in _any way_…"

"_Possession_ is nine tenths of the law Manoso," Anton shot back. "Your name is no longer on her coño, my friend. She no longer wears your brand on her clothes. I wish you could have seen her tonight at dinner…she was a temptation to behold, have you ever danced with her Manoso? I think not, if you had had such a pleasure you would have never let her go…Let me guess too busy sparring with your boys to take her out?"

Ranger let out an animalistic roar of pure fury. "I will rain Hell down upon you do you hear me? There is no place that you can run or hide that I cannot find."

"Temper, temper Manoso. Would you really do such a thing when she _wants_ to be with me? There's no shackle on her leg, I'm not holding her here. You had your chance—you had three years of them, now when someone else steps in you piss and moan and stomp your feet like a spoiled child."

"You're going to get her killed, stop this insanity right now. Trevino…" He stopped himself, he refused to beg, hell that was probably what the asshole wanted.

"I have taught her _everything_ I know." Ranger snarled at the sexual innuendo coating the other man's tone. "She is a _very_ capable woman; she escaped your grasp did she not?"

"Let me speak to her." Ranger tried again, fighting for calm.

"I'm afraid I cannot, she's in the shower—and well, if I were to go in there I guarantee handing her the phone would be the last thing on my mind."

"Let me speak to her Antoni or I swear on my life I will end you,"

"No."

"GOD DAMNIT YOU MOTHERFUCKING PIECE OF SHIT PUT HER ON THE PHONE!" He roared.

There was a muffled sound in the background he only picked up on because his adrenaline was in overdrive.

"I have to go, we have a lot to do and it's already late," Trevino's tone had changed it was mild and friendly almost—Stephanie must be in the room, she didn't know he was talking to him!

"Put. Her. On. The. Phone. Trevino. Now."

"Too late for that. I will take good care of her, I promise."

The line went dead.

Ranger let the phone fly from his hand shattering it against the opposite wall. The lamp was next, then the closet door was kicked from its hinges and exploded back into the closet. Tank was suddenly in the room behind him.

"Ric! Ric! Stop, your scaring Julie man!"

_Shit_.

"Let me guess," Lester said from the doorway his tone carefully neutral, "that went about as well as we expected?"

"Fucker wouldn't put her on the phone. Fuck, I think he's sleeping with her…"

Tank sucked in a breath beside him and Les looked ill.

_Fuck he hadn't meant to say that last part out loud. _

"No way, I don't believe it." Les said shaking his head.

"She's not sleeping with him! That asshole sleeps on the couch!" Julie shouted from behind Lester her arms crossed over her chest...funny she didn't look upset that he'd been destroying things. He shot a look at Tank and the big man shrugged one large shoulder and looked away. Lying _Bastard._

"Dad he's an Asshole. Stephanie loves you—she's not sleeping with _him_."

He scrubbed his hands over his face feeling empty suddenly. He _wanted_ to believe that, he really did. Hell she'd said it on the phone to him, but how many times had she gone back to the cop instead of staying with him…doubt was starting to creep in.

"Get downstairs and start tracking him, find out where that Motherfucker is."

"You got it," Tank and Les said.

* * *

**TBC...**


	33. Chapter 33

**Disclaimer: ** Nope!

**Notes: ** Huge thanks to everyone for reading and reviewing this crazy thing! I hope you continue to enjoy it, things are about to go rocket ship wild all over again, (LOL) You'll see what I mean after this chapter... xD

Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter Thirty-Three**

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**Stephanie's POV**

I stepped out of the shower about ten minutes later. Everything was easier when you didn't have to shave because you'd been waxed and you didn't need to wash your hair. Since I'd just gotten both done I'd chosen to pull my new longer straightened and still softly styled hair up into a loose bun at the top of my head to keep it as dry as possible, and had focused on simply washing the make-up off of my face and normal body cleansing stuff. I'd sweated a little while dancing with Anton at dinner—but not much, it was rather cool on the roof and I was in better shape then I'd ever been in my life, it wasn't like we'd been running laps up there.

I dried myself off with a towel far more fluffy and soft then I'd ever expect a hotel towel to be—these were almost as soft as Ranger's heavenly towels on Seven. After I finished patting myself dry I wrapped the towel around myself—just in case Anton was in the bedroom and opened the door to check for him. Nope, still alone—it sounded like he was in the front room still talking on the phone. I couldn't make out words through the thick door but it sounded a little like he was having an argument.

I frowned and moved to the closet off the bedroom suite to choose clothing—Anton had said something comfortable and judging by the box on the coffee table I'd discovered earlier I had a feeling he wasn't just saying that because it was late. I put on comfortable pair of satin and lace trimmed boyshorts and a padded sports bra then covered that with a pair of Victoria Secret yoga pants with a fold down waist and a tank top that hung off one shoulder just slightly. I'd found the shirt as a novelty item during my shopping spree and still felt slightly guilty for buying it—but what the hell, Anton had said go crazy. The shirt in question had the Bat signal plastered across my chest and was emblazoned with the phrase "Up all Night" beneath it.

Don't look at me like that, it might be a little dirty but it wasn't like Ranger would see it!

I paused for a moment still in the closet feeling flushed imagining Ranger's facial expression and possible reaction if he _Did._ Oh boy. _Focus Steph, focus!_

When I exited the bedroom Anton was still talking on the phone—but it sounded like the disagreement was over with. I assumed it was one of his contacts calling him with information he might need for his up-coming trip. He'd had to leave several times while training me and Julie to take care of other things. Anton had a real job after all; I wasn't positive I knew everything he did, I wasn't sure I wanted to. Just like Ranger Anton was a man of mystery, there was a lot he didn't share. But I guess when you associate with men like them that's just something you have to learn to deal with.

Anton looked up when I came through the bedroom door and he shot me a soft grin. I blushed wondering if I should have put on a different shirt. "I have to go, we have a lot to do, and it's already late," Anton spoke softly into the phone still watching me as I circled the back of the couch to take a seat in front of the guns laid out on the table.

There was a muffled voice from the phone too low to make out and I felt the ghost of a tingle across my neck and shivered as goosebumps broke out across my skin. I wrapped my arms around myself rubbing with the palm of my hands and wondering if there was a draft as Anton shot me a concerned look. "Too late for that. I will take good care of her, I promise." Anton said while the back of my neck started tingling again and then he hung up the phone.

He held it in his hand for a moment longer looking at the screen, apparently shutting it down—probably to save battery or wouldn't ring while he was asleep and wake him up and then tossed it back into his bag. "Are you cold Querida?" He asked.

"No, just got a shiver all of a sudden." I shrugged and Anton nodded slowly. "I will be right back. I need to get something from the kitchen."

He left and was gone for a few moments before returning with a glass of water he set it on the coffee table after taking a sip and then gestured to the items between us.

"So, I imagine your curiosity had you opening this up?"

I nodded slowly and Anton grinned and opened the box. "This," he said pulling out the bra, "Is not as nice as some of your more racy things," I glared at him. "But the Colt will fit here perfectly," he picked up one of the guns, they looked so tiny in his large hands and tucked it into the pocket built half under the cup on one side. "I have never worn this personally," and he grinned at me, "but I asked one of the women I have worked with before and she recommended them all. She has used them as an agent for years when she needed to wear very tight or revealing clothing and could not risk her gun being seen. "

I nodded slowly and he went through each of the items including one or two I'd missed since they were under the tissue paper—there was a thigh holster that came with a sort of garter strap attachment to keep it from sliding down, a new angle holster made of a softer stretchy nylon Anton said could actually fit underneath some of my knee high boots and a softly padded nylon harness that would crisscross my shoulders and secure up to two guns in the middle of my back. Apparently the leather purse that was in the box was specially made to prevent people from grabbing it—the two straps could be shifted or moved into different positions and it had a special slot in the side to slide a gun in. Anton showed me how to wear the purse with one strap around my waist, and how to hook the other one around one thigh so it stuck to my leg as I moved around wearing it. It left my hands completely free and wasn't bulky enough to get in my way—something like this would have been amazingly helpful back when I was a BEA. He'd stuffed pepper spray and a stun gun inside the main pocket as well "In case you meet someone on the street and you wish a less lethal option,"

"Like Lester or Tank."

"Well I don't mind if you wish to shoot Tank," Anton said ignoring the look I sent him, "But you might."

He laid each item out as we went through them and he walked me through putting the guns in, and taking them out, then he had me pull off the tank top—and I was glad I'd chosen this particular bra—so he could show me how to wear the girdle like holsters over my waist and how to get the guns in and out of them. We did the same with the bra—putting it over the one I was wearing after I shot him a look that clearly illustrated that I was willing to shoot him if he suggested I remove it. I refused to model the panties certain I could figure that out on my own—and I'd worn a thigh and ankle holster before.

"I want you wearing two guns at all times," Anton said. "These are all very good guns—reliable. They are all Colts, sub compacts—they should fit comfortably not just in the holsters but in your hands." I picked up each of the guns and Anton walked me through loading, unloading, clearing a jam, safety location and round capacity for each gun.

"The Mustang holds six rounds, you can carry one in the chamber and make it seven, and it shoots a classic .38 caliber—it's small but it's going to pack a big punch." I nodded and he picked up the next gun, "This is my friend's favorite, it's a Colt Defender, it shoots a classic 9mm and it's bigger than the Mustang—it'll give you 8 rounds in the magazine but it's heavier and longer—it will be harder to hid in your bra or under your arm in the tank top—this one works better at your waist or the small of your back—it's the big daddy as far as your concealed carry gun is concerned." He waited until I nodded and moved on picking up the next gun. "Also a Mustang—but an older model, still good, it's called a Pocketlite and it shoots 38's. You can fit this one in a boot even without the holster—but I wouldn't recommend it unless you're in a serious pickle. You have to run and it's awful easy for the little bastard to pop back out and end up in the street or it slides down to your ankle and you can't get it back out."

He picked up his own gun from off the coffee table, a Glock 19 and held it between us. "I'm giving you one of these too. It's bigger, it's obvious and if someone finds this puppy and you're lucky they'll stop searching—they'll assume one gun is all you have."

Then we went through knives, by the time we finished that it was close to eleven and I was yawning.

"Querida get some sleep, I will need you to stay alert the next three days."

"You're leaving me for three days?" I hadn't been alone in months. I'd always had Julie near me…

"Afraid you will miss me Querida?" Anton winked.

"No!"

He reached inside the purse I'd taken off so we could try the other holster things and pulled out a wallet. "Here are your ID's and your bank card it will work as credit—but you should have enough to cover almost anything you wish to buy without needed to charge anything."

"What's the pin?" Anton told me and I nodded committing it quickly to memory.

"And these, Querida," Anton added last, his hand hesitating in the bag for a moment. "Are your keys."

"My what?" I stared at him.

"Your keys Querida," He pulled out a shiny key ring with a single key on it and tossed it at me. I caught it against my chest two handed with minimal fumbling and then stared at it.

"No way!"

Anton grinned and leaned back against the seat to watch me.

"No!" I breathed stunned.

"I saw your face at the airport Querida, If only I could get you to look at me that way…"

_Shit._ I glanced up at him and swallowed. I'd heard something similar from Ranger before.

"Where is it?" I asked.

"The valet has it—but it is late!" Anton called then started laughing as I jumped up and raced into the bedroom to find my flip flops.

"Querida, Seriously?" Anton's voice followed me from the living room, he was chuckling when I came back out with my spa flip flops on my feet. I shoved the Batman shirt back over my head and Anton asked me if I was forgetting something then he nodded in approval as I put on one of the waist holsters and tucked one of the Colt Mustangs into it. He'd put on a plain white t-shirt from his gym bag not the bedroom where nicer clothes seemed to hang out and he'd added a pair of sneakers while he waited for me to arm myself. He followed me to the door his own gun tucked back at his waist.

"You're going too?"

"Of course, I can't have you running away in the middle of the night, in that car you might end up in Colorado! I promised the Nina to keep you safe."

I froze in the doorway. "Was that Julie on the phone?" My Spidey sense started tingling.

"No Querida, it was not. But I had to switch the Sim card out on your phone, please be more careful. Now let's go—we still need sleep at some point."

We went down the hallway and Anton had to practically jog to keep up with me. I bounced in the elevator the entire time it was moving and the second the doors were open I bolted for the lobby skipping down the white marble staircase two steps at a time and shooting out the marble foyer's glass doors and onto the street. Anton was close on my heels laughing the entire time and it felt great!

The valet looked expectantly at us when we stopped in front of him and we gave him the key. I was still grinning like an idiot when the valet pulled around the front of the hotel and I recognized the car instantly—well, not the same car obviously, that one was probably still at the bottom of the New Jersey inter coastal under Cooper's bridge—and even if it wasn't I doubted that Baby would ever drive again.

It purred at the curb greeting me. It was shiny and new and gorgeous and, "it's _really_ mine?" I said.

"It's _really_ yours Querida," Anton breathed against my ear from behind me, one of his hands spanning the side of my waist through my thin tank top heating my skin.

"Did I buy it?" I turned my head to look at him as the valet was getting out and circling the car to bring me the key. Anton was suddenly very close—I could feel his breath on my face and my heart gave a little stumbling beat. His eyes were closer to Morelli's color then Ranger's—they looked like rich milk chocolate or dark wild honey.

"No," Anton said slowly, "I wanted you to have it."

_Holy Shit._ This car cost almost as much as what I'd stolen from Ranger!

"Manoso is not the only man with his own business." Anton said shrugging softly and I swear he leaned towards me a little bit.

"Mrs. Paretti?" The Valet said making me turn away. I thought I heard Anton sigh in frustration behind my head. "Your car?" I grabbed the key and spun to grin at Anton grabbing his hand and bouncing like a kid. "Let's go for a drive!"

"I thought that was the whole point!" He shot back with a grin and climbed into the passenger seat while I leapt behind the wheel. I sat for a moment caressing the steering wheel and touching all the buttons in my excitement.

"Querida, stop it—you are making me jealous of a vehicle, and it is already getting late."

"Right," I said and started her purring and pulled out onto the street.

Now it's kinda hard to really enjoy a super machine like an Audi R8 someplace like New York City—she needed to be driven in the country or on the open interstate—those horses needed room to run, but since it was edging towards midnight and Anton had to be up before the sun we both settled for a quick spin around a couple of blocks. I could practically feel her disappointment (and mine) when I pulled back up in front of the Peninsula hotel and stroked the wheel for a second while the engine purred away and promised I'd take her out and hit the road the next day. "And I promise I'll shoot anyone that tries to blow you up!" I told the car.

Anton said nothing merely shook his head, the ghost of a smile on his face.

The valet took her away and we headed back upstairs. I was starting to feel really guilty as we rode the elevator back to our suite about the fact that it was 12:32 am and Anton needed to be up by 5am. "I think you should take the bed." I said when he shut the suite door behind us locking it.

Anton shot me a look. "Is this car guilt?"

I shrugged one shoulder, "maybe," it was feeling like a lot of kinds of guilt.

"Querida, go to bed." He said and threw himself down onto the couch one arm flung up over his face not looking at me.

I stood hands on my hips frowning at the ceiling. _I was going to regret this._ "Anton, if you touch me in the middle of the night I will knee you in the balls and then shoot you in the face."

He moved his arm and raised one eyebrow at me. "Does that mean we're sharing?" He didn't grin or I might have shot him right here. I rolled my eyes up to the ceiling again. _Fuck. I don't know._ I just felt like shit making him sleep on the couch when he barely fit on it and I had a closet full of clothing all from him, and the keys to a two hundred thousand dollar Audi in my hand. It was just sleep right?

"I'm not having sex with you!" I said.

"Fair enough, I'm exhausted anyway." Anton said.

We went into the bedroom and I made a point of placing the Colt on my side of the bed. Anton did grin at that and put his Glock on his nightstand. "Mine's bigger," he said.

"I'll deport you to the couch," I shot back and he held his hands up in mock surrender. He lost the T-shirt but not the shorts—_Thank god._ And we both shed our shoes then I turned out the light on my side and crawled into the bed.

I lay there in the dark listening to him breathing behind me for a few minutes and tried to tell myself it was no different than sleeping next to Julie, or Diesel or…well not Ranger…anytime I slept next to Ranger we always ended up entangled. I felt a zip of heat shoot down my spine with that thought and firmly told myself not to think about that with Anton in my bed—god knows the last thing I needed was to molest him on accident in my sleep!

I must have eventually fallen asleep because when I woke the next morning I was alone—and I was fully clothed, so I guess that meant I wasn't shooting Anton today. Of course then I remembered that Anton wasn't going to be around and I had to entertain myself for the next 72 hours. In New York City… _Hmm_.

I climbed out of bed and stuffed my feet into some running shoes and went downstairs to hit the gym—I know, I know. You're thinking; _What?!_ But The thing is; I'd realized over the last few months that when people are trying to kill you running becomes a pretty important part of your routine—if you can't run twenty feet without puking chances are they're going to catch you pretty darn quick. And then you end up a whole lot of dead.

I ran farther than twenty feet—I did about two and a half miles on the treadmill before I got bored with that and discovered a Zumba class going on in one of the gym's workout rooms. I slipped into the back of the class and spent the next hour dancing to Latin beats and shaking my ass. I was sweaty and a little sore when I made it back up to the suite and hit the shower. When I got out I took one look at my wet hair in the mirror and realized I had no idea what to do with it!

I wrapped my head in a towel, and wrapped my body in another and moved to the closet. I dressed in a nice pair of grey slacks with a wide leg and a thick cuff and a blue short-sleeve navy blue peasant top with a cute little ruffle down the center and faux buttons. I'd chosen to try the panties with the holster in them underneath the dress pants because the material was soft and sort of clung and I wanted to see how that would affect the gun's visibility. I tucked the Colt Pocketlite inside the built in pouch and then stood in front of the mirror shifting and turning and realized you really _couldn't_ tell I was packing a gun just inside my right hip bone below my panty line! _Huh, that was pretty neat!_

I was tempted to put on one of the other holsters as well but since New York has strict gun laws I didn't want to push my luck. I tucked a knife into my boot moved the pepper spray and wallet to one of the Louis Vuitton bags I'd bought the previous day. Then I did some makeup in the mirror over the sink keeping it light with just a hint of smoky around my eye lids and unwrapped the towel from my head.

My hair was still straight—which was a good sign but I wasn't really sure what to do with it there was so much! It was thicker than my real hair had ever been, even with the natural curl, and at its longest point and wet hung to almost the middle of my waist. I ended up finger combing some texturizing mouse through it that smelled good and tipping my head upside down to blow dry it. When I flipped right-side-up again I had big hair—but not Jersey big like my old curls, this was like super body, luscious thick salon hair commercial thick! Nice.

I messed with the part on my head for a little bit before going with a slightly off-center part and using a bunched to an inch wide grey silk sash that was supposed to be a belt for my pants as a hair band to keep control of most of it. I stood back from the mirror and gave myself the once over and thought I could pass as a trendy New Yorker. I could be a rich uptown wife, or even a snazzy FBI agent considering I had a gun in my panties! I giggled at that thought.

"Is that a gun in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?" I asked the mirror leering in my best impersonation of Lester and that set me off cackling again.

I got serious a moment later when my stomach started snarling and reminded me that I hadn't eaten. I grabbed my purse off the bed noticed as I was about to leave the suite that Anton had left a file folder for me and a new laptop next to it. I moved closer to inspect the folder and found a hand written sticky note on it.

_Querida, you drool a little in your sleep, it's cute._

_See if you can find out where these people are currently hiding, _

_I've included alias and last known locations._

_Please, don't call Manoso, that was my last Sim card for your phone._

_-A_

I glanced at the file but it didn't seem like something I should take to lunch so I left it on the counter and went downstairs to find something to eat.

Three hours later I made it back into the suite. I'd ended up taking the Audi to lunch and together my car and I had decided to tour the city by way of the New York interstate almost to Pennsylvania. Don't judge me that car was wickedly sinful!

I sat down at the bar with the file folder and started flipping through the photos and making notes, then I booted up the laptop and started to search.

Four hours later I had the intense feeling that something wasn't right. Six of the people in the file Anton had left me were obviously career criminals with rap sheets that included everything from double and triple homicide to bank robbery, embezzlement and fraud—but two of them were suspected of turning state witness in the last year and a half and had dropped off the grid. I was wondering if they might be in witness protection somewhere—and if so why they heck did Anton need to find them? If they were being watched by someone in exchange for information they certainly couldn't be involved in coming after me or Julie…

The seventh guy had no rap sheet that I could find anywhere—the guy seemed squeaky clean. He had only one ID and no criminal connections anywhere that I could see. He was also easy to find, he was registered to vote in Maryland, had a driver's license a car and current employment. I wasn't sure if I needed better search equipment to find out the rest, or if I was missing something. My Spidey sense was going haywire and something about this was seriously bothering me.

I got up and moved into the kitchen grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge. Then I stood there staring at the file from across the room and mulled it over in my head. After twenty minutes of staring down the file and finishing the water I still didn't know what to think so I moved into the bedroom and flopped down in my 'Thinking Position'.

An hour later I dragged myself up and went to splash water on my face from my short nap before trudging back out to the living room to stare at the file and see if inspiration had hit me in my sleep. I frowned. That sense that I was missing something was still there. What I wouldn't give to talk to Julie right now.

_Hmm._

I glanced around the kitchen until I found my phone then I glanced at the clock and tried to decide if I could risk giving her a call even though Anton had specifically told me not to…well Technically he'd said not to call Ranger.

Thursday at 4:43pm?

_If I were Ranger where would I be?_

I could always call and hang up if he answered…_yeah right._ Then I had a better idea.

I went to the closet and changed my underwear to something none lead lined, if you know what I mean, then I changed my pants into a nice pair of jeans, added running shoes with the ankle holster and one of the Mustang's tucked into it. I kept the peasant top on though it was a touch wrinkled from my nap and put one of the waist wrap holsters on underneath it tucking the Defender into it. I checked in the mirror and even when I moved you couldn't see any outline or hint of the gun. I lost the sash and pulled my hair up into a pony tail behind my head, and moved my pepper spray and wallet to the special purse Anton had bought me attaching it to my waist and leg the way he'd taught me so it hung against my side just below my hip.

I double checked the battery on my stun gun and grabbed my cellphone and pocketed my keys though I shouldn't need them then I headed downstairs.

Then I hit the street and walked two blocks to the subway. I bought a pass at a vending station using cash instead of my card and went through the turn style. I rode for about twenty minutes—almost to the other side of the city then I got out and started walking. I bought a simple burner phone at a road stand but avoided the 'I Love New York' T-shirts, and was able to activate the phone with a minute card standing on the sidewalk and then I ended up following signs for Central Park. Once I was in the park I strolled for a while simply enjoying how beautiful it was, then I found a big rock to climb on. There were lots of people sitting on the rock—and other rocks, some were reading some looked like students doing homework for high school or college, and one couple that looked like they needed to get a room! _HolyJeeze!_

I sat down a little ways away from anyone and pulled out my phone. This was risky but with the burner phone if Ranger was home and picked up and I had to hang up I could just toss it in the trash and walk away. If they happened to get a signal I was far from my hotel, very far, and New York was a big place. I took a deep breath. Then I dialed and waited biting my lip while the phone rang twice and then it picked up.

"Hello?" Julie said I breathed a sigh of relief into the phone.

"Julie."

"Steph! Dad's downstairs, we're okay, what do you need?"

I explained the problem with the files, and the wiggy sense they gave me. Julie was quiet for a moment, obviously thinking. "I think you need a better search program," she finally said. "And maybe you should ask my dad about the witness protection thing. You're right about that feeling…off…and Dad said some not so flattering things about Anton…"

"Ditto on this end." I said.

"Yeah," Julie blew out a breath, "I have a feeling when those two meet it's going to be—"

"Armageddon?" I said.

"I was going to say _Gun Happy_ or nuclear."

I snorted but Julie was right. I also had a feeling Anton and Ranger were destined to shoot each other again, and I was feeling kinda responsible on at least some level despite my best attempts to keep myself separated from Anton. _Yikes_.

"If I talk to Ranger he's just going to tell me to come back and try to locate me while I'm on the phone." Julie sighed in my ear, it sounded like agreement. "What I need is Rangeman's search program!" I was totally missing my cubicle right now, (how's that irony for you?)

Julie hmm'd for a moment then said, "Well, if you could get someone at Rangeman to run the search on their time you wouldn't have to be here." Julie probably couldn't do that herself—she didn't have access to the system I needed.

"Hector?" I said.

"Hector thinks you're dead."

"What?!" I shrieked and one of the students shot me an annoyed look. I mouthed _sorry_ and turned away.

"Yeah, Dad only told the Core Team trying to keep it quiet so as far as everyone else knows you're swimming with the fishes."

"Oh that's eloquent Julie thank you."

"You're welcome," Julie said brightly.

I snorted. "Okay well, can't we just tell Hector I'm not dead? I mean he's trustworthy he's not going to go around blabbing it, I could email him or hell can't you just go down to five and tell him? That way there's no email trail…just in case." He might be angry he hadn't been kept in the loop—but I had a feeling he'd forgive me and help us, I'd just hear about it later.

"Yeah, I can do that, give me the names." Julie said.

Lucky for me I had them memorized. I gave her their dates of birth too and then my burner cell number and she promised she'd call me back in less than one hour.

I climbed off the rock bought a pretzel and started to walk—the park was huge and I mean huge, if you didn't look up and see the skyscrapers in the distance you could almost forget you were in the middle of a giant city. I walked and walked, and then I scratched the nose of a carriage horse for a few minutes until the guy picked up a fare. Then my burner phone rang.

"Julie?"

"Try again Babe," His tone was rough and held a hint of anger.

_OhGod. _ I froze. _Hang up, hang up!_ But I couldn't. He could probably hear me breathing.

"Babe?"

"Ranger…"

"Where are you?" Same tone. _Oh God, I wanted to crawl under the rock and hide. Batman was pissed at me!__Crap_!

"I…I can't tell you that. I just needed some information."

"You want it? You _come to me_ and get it. Don't send Julie to run around my office telling people you're not dead! That gets out and you'll have every wannabe and professional hitman after you for four states!" He sounded…_really_ pissed actually. So much for being proud of me, guess that only lasted five minutes. If I was standing near a tree I'd probably thunk my head against it. And while he had a point, that was one of the reasons I couldn't go to him! And it was kinda pissing me off as well.

"We both know if I walk through that door you'll never let me leave again!" Ranger growled in my ear and heat zipped through me but I pushed on. "Not to mention I'm supposed to be dead!" I hissed into the phone. "I can't just show up at Rangeman have you lost your damn mind?!"

"Babe…" his tone went a little softer that time.

"No! Ranger either _help me_ or I'll find another way!"

"_Babe_, I want to help you—I'm _trying_ to help you; just tell me where you are and I'll come get you!"

"No."

"Stephanie."

_Uh oh full name! _

"Carlos," I shot back. _Let's see how you like it Batman!_ I resisted the urge to stick out my tongue since he couldn't see it…but only just.

Ranger growled with frustration and I could hear him opening his mouth to speak so I jumped in first. "This was a bad idea, you know what; I'll find another way." I hung up before I could change my mind and a second later the phone started ringing. I turned it off without looking at it. I walked back out of the park stopping to chuck the burner into a trash can then I high tailed it up five blocks and onto the subway. I rode for a while just thinking before finally getting off on 5th avenue and working my way towards the hotel.

By the time I made it back to my suite a sort of crazy plan was forming.

I had a problem. I had always wondered at least in part if Anton was being completely on the level with me and Julie, and I was starting to worry, like I had once upon a time with Ranger, if his 'business' was completely legitimate. I wanted to know why he was looking for those people, and what the hell he was going to do with that information.

Then there was the clothes, and the money and the car…Where had it all come from? Anton had basically handed me two and a half million dollars without batting an eyelash and then on top of that handed me a two hundred thousand dollar car?! I needed to know who I was getting in bed with. I cringed. After last night I guess I meant that both figuratively and literally, at least all we'd done was sleep!

What if Anton was killing these people? Some of them were criminals, and I guess they were murders so that was a grey area I supposed, hell I was planning to do some things myself with him that would certainly result in people's deaths…and I was still struggling a bit with the moral implications of that…but what about the last guy? Where the hell did he fit in? If he wasn't a criminal why did Anton want information on him? What if Anton was going to kill him, if I helped him find the guy—though it had been way to easy and no doubt Anton could have done it himself, did that make me partially responsible for his death?!

I felt a little sick.

If I went to Haywood trying to get answers Ranger would lock me up on seven and throw away the key, I might get the information but since I'd be under house arrest in the Batcave it was pretty much useless to me. All our carefully laid plans to stop people from seeing me as an easy target would be null and void because thanks to Ranger's good intentions, I'd be forced into hiding. If I told Ranger where I was; he'd show up with at least the core team and drag me kicking and screaming back to Rangeman or a safe house somewhere, which ultimately left me with the same problem as before. Again with the hiding, and no resolve.

What I needed was something to trade for the information or _someone_…but even if I kidnapped a random Rangeman off the street, _which was insane_ _mind you_, I doubted very much that Ranger would trade me anything. I couldn't take Julie since there was a hit on her still and she needed to stay exactly where she was to be safe. Even I wasn't going to risk that, not right now, not ever, it wasn't worth it I'd rather fly blind.

Ugh. I must be out of my mind. What I was left considering was the definition of _insanity_, but I could only think of another way to get what I needed out of that building without ending up in it myself. And without it my Spidey sense was telling me things about Anton that I didn't want to consider without certain proof. I sighed and sat down on the couch. There was no other way on such short notice I could think of to get what I needed.

I was going to have to kidnap the man in black since he was the source of my information road block. It was crazy, but it also might be sorta crazy brilliant.

First of all no one would expect it; least of all Batman himself. I mean honestly who in their right mind tried to kidnap Ranger?! No one!

Second—If I took Ranger he couldn't drag me back, doubly so if he was incapacitated. I'd have to stun him or something, I reasoned. I'd also get to see him this way before Anton and I left for Russian in less than a week…I might not make it back. I pushed that thought away, it wasn't helping.

If I was lucky Ranger might even tell me in person about the people in question. If they were really involved in some of his 'secret government work' he might know something about the people in the files if they were his enemies that Anton did not. At the very least I could hear what he had to say about Anton in person and try to judge where it was coming from, I could walk him through my suspicions too, he'd always been willing to listen to me before about FTA's and other things, he'd always told me I had good instincts. If I explained to him the problem of people coming after me and he saw how serious I was, how much I'd been training...maybe he'd finally put faith in my abilities the way Anton had. I frowned. Did I really think Ranger doubted my abilities? I wasn't sure, but the thought left me feel a little sick. I had always expected Joe to doubt me—But Ranger? _Focus Stephanie_.

If Ranger still wouldn't help me even face to face then I would just have to force Tank or Lester to give me what I wanted in exchange for him. I was pretty sure they'd make a deal with me, and if not I could always just email Hector and risk blowing my whole 'I'm dead' cover if they all refused to cooperate. I felt like I didn't have much choice.

Time for some serious planning. I was really going to do this. I was going to kidnap and interrogate Batman.

_Yikes._

**TBC...**

**Oh boy! Who hasn't thought of kidnapping Batman?**


	34. Chapter 34

**Disclaimer:** Not mine

**Notes: **_Sorry some of you don't like where I've taken this, I hope you can still enjoy it at least a little bit._

* * *

**Chapter Thirty-Four**

* * *

**Stephanie POV**

I planned most of the night not falling asleep until almost five in the morning, but that turned out to be a good thing because I didn't wake up until almost two. I still had plenty of time to kill and honestly if I had woken up any earlier with the nerves jumping around in my stomach I'd probably pace a hole in the carpet going through the plan over and over again in my head.

I ordered room service and then went to take my shower while I waited. Fifteen minutes later I was washed, deep conditioned, exfoliated, and buffed dry with a supper fluffy towel. My skin was super soft from a coat of lightly scented lotion that had some kind of super fine glitter to it a very light tint and made me look sun kissed and radiant from chin to toes.

I had my hair in a towel and the hotel's heavenly fluffy robe on when I answered the door for room service. I ate quickly and then stacked the dishes back on the cart and placed it in the hall for the attendant to come back by and take—I couldn't risk them coming in to clean up and finding a bunch of guns laying around or other things!

I double checked my guns and ammo—praying I wouldn't need them for anything other than show, and then checked the stun gun battery I'd plugged into the charger the night before. The light was green, a very good sign; I'd have to use it at least twice today and if the battery ran out of juice I was going to be left in a serious bind.

I headed back into the bathroom to do the hair and make-up thing and really took my time because I had to get this right. Almost an hour later I had a clear complexion, (who knew a healthier diet and exercise could do so much?) lightly blushed cheeks with just the hint of freckles over my cheekbones pecking through thanks to the months of beach sun with Julie, and my eyes were done in a smoky shadow slightly darker at the crease making them look larger and much bluer then they already were. The effect was almost startling when I studied them in the mirror with a critical eye, that Courtney really knew her stuff! Next I lined them with a dark pencil just a few shades off of black smudging the edges just a little to blend it into the shadow on my lids, I didn't want any harsh lines, it all needed to blend today so what Ranger would see was my eyes, not the makeup. Then I coated my lashes with a clump proof water proof 12-hour mascara and curled them up a few times using that little torture device on every woman's bathroom counter that looks like Tinkerbell's speculum.

I left my lips pretty much bare—just the hint of color, nothing that would compete with my eyes which I wanted to be the focus of my face. I chose a wear-proof lipstick almost the same as my natural lip's shade but more rich. The shade was called 'Thoroughly Kissed' and staring at myself in the mirror with it on I had to admit it was exactly the shade my lips flushed to after Batman did exactly that. _Oh boy._ Last I added a smoothing silky soft lip balm that tasted like vanilla frosting, mostly for me because, _Yum._

I dressed to impress to go with my make-up. Little black dress—clingy but not too tight to move with a pretty daring hemline almost 6 inches above my knee. The top of the dress was basically strapless since the three satiny ribbons that went over my collar bones where so loose they did nothing to hold up the dress and were basically designed to slide down my arms and move when I did drawing attention to all the bare skin at my neckline. I added the Saint Michael medallion for courage and a pair of almost knee high boots with a slight wedge heel that made my legs look miles long and that I could—more importantly, tuck my holster and gun into.

I stood back from the mirror and gave myself the once over, twice. Anton was right—you really couldn't tell I had a gun in my boot. I added a knife to the other one slipped a gun into my hip purse with the pepper spray and now fully charged stun gun and then I grabbed one of Anton's fleece hooded jackets and my keys and hit the door headed for the lobby.

I grabbed my car from the valet and made my way out of the city stopping at a big shopping mall just inside New Jersey with one of those big craftmen tool stores. I put the purse on my hip, slipped the jacket on zipping it up to cover the dress and I looked like a might be a woman getting off a day at the office just running errands. I went inside and bought myself a screw driver and some heavy duty zip ties. Then I drove around the mall to the movie theater complex and found a parking space as far away from the theater as possible—but still packed in with cars. There was no one in sight when I climbed out of the car and used the screw driver to remove a mini van's license plate, I quickly removed my plate and put it on and then did the same to the back of the mini-van and my car. I left a hundred dollar bill for the mini-van driver as an '_I'm sorry'_ slipping it through the passenger side window and into the seat—hopefully no one would see it way out here and bust their window open to steal it.

New plates acquired I climbed back in my car and drove five minutes down the road to an gun and military supply store where I quickly acquired a pair of standard metal handcuffs. Then I headed to Trenton.

I cruised down Haywood and then very carefully checked side streets until I found a parking spot with a barely-there view of the buildings front. I pulled the stun gun out and put it in my right jacket pocket so I could easily grab it. Now I just needed someone to leave the building so I could tail them, or better yet I needed someone to skip the gym inside and go running, alone—and I prayed to God it wasn't Tank.

I didn't' think there was enough stun guns in the world to bring him down without a fight.

At five o'clock on the dot the front door to Rangeman opened and a man came out in loose black jogging shorts and a black shirt that even from this distance looked tight enough to be a tattoo. I couldn't tell who it was at this distance other then it wasn't Ranger—no ponytail. I lucked out in that whoever it was started jogging towards my cross street instead of going the other way so I didn't have to drive in front of the building again, I was certain that the camera's on the buildings front had seen my car—and while that wasn't suspicious, seeing it twice might be enough to draw someone's attention. I wondered again for a brief moment watching the man jog towards me if I should have swapped my car for an actual rental, but I discarded that idea again. I might need the speed to get away and I already knew this thing was faster than all the Rangeman vehicles combined with the exception of Ranger's Turbo. That one might give me a run for my money in a flat out chase.

I really hoped it didn't come to that though; I just wanted to talk to him, preferably without being carted off and locked away while Ranger threw away the key.

The jogger was close enough I could see who it was now, I groaned and tipped my head back against the seat. So not fair, really. He was probably going to be the easiest of the Merry Men to pull this on, but I still felt terrible about it.

I pulled out onto the street once he'd made it another block and followed slowly inching just below the speed limit with the lead I'd let him take. When he turned down a side street and started picking up his pace I followed rolling down the passenger side window. He didn't have on headphones—aware of his surroundings and all that, and still when I shouted his name out the window he managed to almost trip over his own feet.

"Hal!"

Hal's head whipped around and he slammed to a stop almost falling on his face. I had to stop the car just a few feet past him trying not to chirp the tires on the pavement. Luckily there was no one behind me. Hal was bent forward at the waist, trying to see in the window of my car—he walked forward that way a few feet til he was even with me. I saw when the recognizion hit him.

"Bomber?! Holy Shit!" He moved right towards me just like I'd hoped he would. "How? Your alive! Oh my god you're alive!"

_Damn._ I was going straight to Hell.

"Get in Hal," I waved to him and he hopped right into the car and then surprised me by grabbing me in a huge bar hug so tight I couldn't breathe.

"I thought you were dead, _everyone_ thinks you're dead! I thought it was all my fault, I let you walk right out of the damn building that morning! There's this huge memorial at the bridge, flowers and candles and things and Oh My God, you've got to tell Ranger! We have to call him right now!" He was reaching for his phone.

"Hal wait!" I said slapping my hand over his phone.

"No Stephanie! He thinks you're dead! You don't know what this has done to him, we have to tell him, you have to tell him—Why haven't you told him?!" Hal was practically shaking me.

"I need a favor,"

"Anything,"

I knew he'd say that. Didn't make me feel any less guilty for pulling the stun gun out of my pocket and pressing it to his ribs. Hal jerked, twitched and went limp. Shit. I checked his pulse and found it immediately but his skin was clammy and he definitely hadn't jogged long enough to work up a sweat.

I'm going straight to hell, no doubt about it. Why did it have to be Hal? He's never going to forgive me. I grabbed zip ties from the bag on the shelf the Audi had instead of a backseat and quickly secured his hands with two of them—he was a big strong guy after all. The second he was secured I seatbelted him in rolled up the window and started forward, it only took me two minutes to get to the location, Hal was still out but I wasn't sure how long I had so I picked up his phone and started to dial.

It rang once.

"Talk."

"I'd love to how fast can we meet?"

"Steph!? What are you doing with Hal's phone?"

I glanced at Hal still slumped in his seat. "Well I wanted to talk to you but if I called you'd just track me, and if I showed up you'd keep me there, or turn me over to the FBI—"

"I would _never_,"

"—Good to know. I want to talk to _you_ in person, so I sorta took out a little insurance."

"Explain."

_Oh boy, here we go._

"I've kidnapped Hal; if you want him back you have to meet me on Watersboro Street—at the end, between the warehouses, and we'll do an exchange, bring an extra person to pick him up." Then I hung up, turned the phone off and tucked it back into Hal's pocket.

I had minutes, if that—Ranger was probably already taking the stairs as I was unhooking Hal's seatbelt and unzipping my jacket to toss in the back. I grabbed the handcuffs and gun from my bag and got out. I left my door open so I could jump back in quickly and circled to open the passenger door as well. Hal was still out, clock was ticking. I set the cuffs on the roof of the Audi and checked the gun in my hand trying to stop my fingers from shaking.

_Deep breaths Stephanie, You can do this._ The worst that could happen was Ranger could simply grabbed me and throw me into the back of the SUV. Hell even if I got him alone there was a damn good chance before I could get my answers or any answers out of him he'd simply overpower me and I'd end up back at Rangeman again.

I wasn't sure how exactly he was going to work out me being dead—then again maybe that just meant he really would never let me leave again…my body warred with my brain for a brief moment trying to decide if that was a hot flash moment or a _Yikes. _My body won_. Traitor._

I leaned against the quarter panel of the car watching the street in the most obvious direction for the Rangemen SUV or the Porsche to show up. The other street behind me was a one-way and I was betting they'd want to get here as fast as possible which would mean not hooking through a few blocks to approach from that direction. They might block me in later with a second car, but I was hoping Ranger wouldn't do that. I'd said I wanted to talk.

Of course I'd also said I'd kidnapped Hal, I wasn't sure how that balanced out on the karma scale.

Sixty seconds later a black SUV rolled around the corner of Watersboro and started heading towards us. I tapped my gun hand nervously against my right thigh bouncing it against my leg a few times before forcing myself to stop and crossing my legs at the ankle leaning back against the car for support so my knees wouldn't knock and give me away.

I'd seen Ranger stand almost the same damn way how many times outside the bonds office? I could picture him perfectly doing exactly this in my head. Course he wasn't usually palming a gun…and I didn't have any of those Batman mirror shades that hid his eyes and gave nothing away.

Hal groaned softly from the open doorway and I drew in a tight breath.

_Here we go_, I told myself, _too late to run away now_.

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**TBC...**


	35. Chapter 35

**Notes: ** So, this kinda chapter is sorta what I'm famous for in my other fandoms. I hope I did it justice.

_**Please Note, Definitely Rated M!**_

_Thanks guys!_

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**Chapter Thirty-Five**

* * *

**Stephanie's POV**

The Black SUV was coming down the alleyway in front of us and the back of my neck started to tingle like crazy letting me know even without being able to see through the dark tinted windows _exactly_ who was in there. I kept my ass leaned against the side of the car's quarter panel as casually as I could freaking out more than a little on the inside and hoping to God it didn't show.

Ranger could practically smell weakness. If I wanted even a prayer of this working out I had to at least pretend convincingly to be strong.

I turned a little taking my eyes off the SUV and leaning toward the open car door. Hal wasn't moving much so I poked his shoulder with my index finger hard enough to sprain something. _Jeeze, ease back on the gym time buddy, it was like poking a rock!_

I resisted the urge to flex my now sore finger and said, "Hal," then I said it again. He rolled his head around on his thick muscled tree-trunk neck to stare at me for about two seconds.

He blinked and said, "_Bombshell_?" like he'd seen a ghost and then he seemed to pass out again. _Oh boy._ How much juice was in that damn thing? I pictured trying to explain this to Ranger for a split second and fought down panic. I hadn't meant to kill him I swear! I turned back to the approaching SUV; no time to figure something else out, they were here.

Ranger leapt out of the passenger seat and the back door opened and Lester spilled out, a glimpse of Bobby on his heels…I assumed Tank was driving…I have no idea, I wasn't looking anymore.

My eyes locked on Ranger's as he prowled toward me like a tightly-wound jungle cat and it was like everything else melted away. I forgot about the car behind my back, and Hal moaning softly in the passenger seat, and the gun in my hand rested against my thigh.

I wanted to run right at him and tackle him. I wanted to wrap my arms and legs around him and climb him like a tree and kiss every part of his beautiful face…I _wanted_ so _sudden_ and _intensely_ in that instant it hurt to breathe.

My heart started to race double time, my pulse pounded in my throat, and every part of me suddenly felt flushed and too warm. He was within ten feet of me when I remembered the gun in my hand and what the hell I was doing and I jerked it up between us flipping the safety off with my thumb and pointed it at his chest in a one handed grip that had him stopped just short in front of me.

"Back up please, I don't like pointing this at you."

One brow rose in question, his gaze flicking from the gun in my hand to my face and he did take one step back I took my finger off the trigger but left the gun raised. Ranger's eyes tracked over to study Hal still slumped boneless against the seat of my car, his head lolling forward on his neck. One sneakered foot had fallen out of the door and was hanging limp. He did look kinda dead…'til he groaned a bit.

A slow grin spread across Ranger's lips and his eyes moved over me….the smile morphed into a wolf grin that made my pulse race even faster in my throat and throb in other more intimate places.

"_Babe_, what did you do to poor Hal?"

Lester, Bobby and Tank were standing just behind him also watching me.

"I stunned him…again."

Behind Ranger Les started to laugh and quickly covered it up by coughing and Tank told him to stuff a sock in it.

"Babe, Hal's had a pretty tough week; was that really necessary?"

I sucked in a breath and blew it out and Ranger and everyone else stared at my chest. I almost rolled my eyes. _Okay, so Anton had a point about the dressing to control a room._ Ranger moved toward me and I pulled the hammer back and shifted a step to the side—keeping the space, if he got his hands on me I was done for. "I needed a hostage to trade. I'm here for that information you wouldn't give me over the phone."

Tank's hand twitched towards his service weapon—but he didn't pull it out and point it at me. Gee thanks big guy, although I guess I couldn't really blame him.

"Steph," Bobby said looking shocked.

"I'm offering you a trade Ranger. If I know you you've already run the names, I need to know what's going on, I've got questions and information that doesn't add up. I'll give Hal back to Tank in exchange for you instead, we talk, I drop you off, I leave; no one tries to stop me. Deal?"

His eyes darkened at the word. "Deal."

_HolyShit._

"One more thing, You put these on, before you get in the car." I grabbed the handcuffs off the roof of the car and tossed them at him with my left hand keeping the gun raised in my right. He caught the metal bracelets against his chest and stared at them for a long moment like he didn't know what to make of them.

Behind him Lester was choking on his own spit; face going red trying to keep himself contained. At least _someone_ was having a good day. Hal groaned again and I was running out of time. I didn't really want to stun him a third time…I was worried I'd give him brain damage.

"Tick tock Ranger, What's it gonna be?" I said. One corner of Ranger's lips quirked up and his eyes darkened to pools of black ebony. I was certain he was going to refuse me, was going to argue at least.

Then he blew my mind by clicking the first bracelet over his left wrist. It took him a second longer to put on the second one and then he held his wrists out to Lester who remained frozen staring at the handcuffs trapping Ranger's hands, his mouth practically hanging open apparently stunned beyond action. A moment later Bobby stepped forward and tightening them instead. I swallowed, my heartbeat pounding in my throat. Ranger kept his eyes locked on me the whole time, and I could feel the intensity of that stare like a physical weight.

I stepped away from the car moving the gun to Tank. "Tank get Hal out please, I don't think he's feeling so good. Tell him I'm sorry."

Tank glanced at Ranger and shook his head once giving him a look that clearly said _one_ or _both_ _of_ _us_ had gone off the deep end. Then Tank strolled forward like this was a completely normal part of his day. He wrapped one arm around Hal and hoisted the guy out of the passenger seat. I stepped back a bit more making sure I was out of arms reach by a long shot watching them shuffle back towards the SUV. Tank dumped Hal in the backseat and shut the door.

"Ranger. Get in the car." He moved forward slowly his gaze still locked on me and I kept the gun trained on him while trying not to meet his eyes. I didn't want to hyperventilate when I was supposed to be calm and collected about this. I kept having to divide my attention between his movement and where Les and Bobby were standing there waiting. I was at a disadvantage but didn't know what to do about it. I started backing toward the rear of the car to move toward the driver side door. "Don't follow us or I'll shoot him in the leg or drive this thing off a bridge." I warned.

Ranger turned around to slide into the car butt first without the use of his hands since they were locked in front of him—it also allowed him to see what I was doing, which wasn't lost on me at all.

"Are we supposed to follow you?" Les said to Ranger clearly ignoring my warning. It was also obvious Lester was still staring at the cuffs on his hands by the way his lips twisted into a leering grin. "I mean if it was _me_…"

"Santos," Tank barked. "Shut the Hell up."

I felt my cheeks go a bit pink and took two steps to the right so I had a clear line of site. Everyone jumped—except Ranger when I killed the SUV's right sided tires in two shots. _Try following me on flats boys. Ha!_

Ranger just looked at me, a flash of something very much like surprise flickering through his eyes, one of his brows rose. "Babe," he said and shook his head.

_I'll never admit this, but even after all the training I'm a little surprised I hit that on the first try, almost a hundred and fifty feet away…Damn. That was hot. And in this dress?__Like Batman-Level Hot!_

_"__Babe," _Ranger said low enough that probably only I could hear.

_Out loud. Damn_! I fought down a blush and kept my face serious.

Course the gunshot noise might draw people—or worse cops. No time to delay now. I moved toward Ranger's door. "Legs in, or lose them." I ordered and when he swung his legs into the car I kicked the door closed with my boot.

When I started backing around to the driver side door Bobby shifted his weight from foot to foot looking like he had something to say. I waved the gun just slightly in my outstretched hand in a gesture of '_No' _and he went still again. Inside the car Ranger remained silent—not a big surprise.

"I'll call you in a little bit to pick him up, and I'll give you the location. I'll shoot anyone that follows me. Don't make this any uglier than it needs to be." Then I ducked into the car slammed the door, threw it into gear and peeled away with a chirp of tires and the faint smell of rubber burning away on hot asphalt.

I kept glancing in the rear view mirror for a block and half but Bobby and Les remained on the spot—Tank was by the SUV either nursing Hal back to health or calling for back up—I wasn't about to stick around and find out which it might be. I tucked my Colt into the door jamb where it was out of Ranger's immediate reach but easy for me to grab again. Then I reached one hand over for his gun and removed that as well. I figured he had an ankle holster on as well—but then so did I and it wouldn't be as easy for him to reach. No point taking chances after all, even handcuffed he was still Batman.

Ranger said nothing for almost four blocks, but I could feel him watching me. I tried to do the zone thing—but it was a no go. Apparently zones can't be learned—and I'd never had one installed to begin with.

"I need some answers," I said after another four blocks and two turns checking the mirrors for a tail periodically.

"I'm experiencing the same." Ranger's tone was even and relaxed.

I smacked my hand against the steering wheel hooked a few more turns and slammed us to a stop behind a warehouse in a moderately nice industrial section of Trenton—hopefully nice enough we wouldn't get car jacked or shot at, I really liked my car. I twisted in my seat and glared at him. "Does nothing affect you?!" I snapped heat creeping into my tone feeling irritated all over again.

He was handcuffed—no idea where he was going. I'd taken him off the road at gun point—and he had his head leaned back and his hands in his lap like _he_ was the one that planned this whole thing!

Ranger's lips twitched. "I'm affected," he said.

I snorted. It sure as Hell didn't look like it!

Ranger reached over with both his handcuffed hands and took my right hand off the gear shift and I froze—until he pressed my hand against his thigh and…_Omigod! Not his thigh!_ My panties instantly went wet and I couldn't remember how to breathe suddenly.

"Is that affected enough for you?" Ranger growled and it _jumped_ under my palm. I gasped and jerked my hand back from his grasp like I'd been burned.

"Stop that!" I gasped.

Ranger chuckled darkly, "Not even possible babe," he growled low in his chest and shot me a look like he wanted to drag me over the gear shifter and fuck me right here…_Omigod! _Heat shot through my nerves in an instantaneous and intense chain lightening reaction and I had to remind myself not open my mouth and to pant. Hell, if he kept looking at me like that I might need to check my chin for drool. I settled for licking my lips nervously instead.

_What the hell was wrong with me!? _I wondered._Ranger was the one in handcuffs and yet somehow I'd lost control again!_ Ranger shot me a dark look that was pure lust and made the top of my thighs wet, I tried not to squirm and give myself away.

"Wanna see me lose control babe, we put these on you."

_Holy HotFlash!_

"Stop it," I said trying to not sound breathless. "I need some answers." I was not going to get distracted. I was here for a reason…

"Tell me about Anton," Ranger said and his suddenly threatening tone had me almost choking on my next breath.

_That wasn't fair I was supposed to be asking the questions. _ "What about him?" I said nervously biting my lower lip.

Ranger's expression darkened and he growled low in his chest. "Are you _fucking_ him?!" He growled through tightly clenched teeth his lips curling back in a snarl that made him look wicked and truly frightening—like a man completely possessed with his rage. It was fear-provoking and fascinating at the same time to see such an explosive reaction from Batman. Batman didn't _do _angry; Batman would say it was an unproductive emotion.

Yet Batman was doing the HELL out of angry right now.

"What?! No!" I shot back in quiet outrage tearing my gaze from the front windshield to look at him waiting for him to calm down—regain control. His jaw was still clenched tight in fury. His eyes were narrowed studying me like maybe I was lying, and what little I could see of them was black as night—not a good sign.

"Why would you even ask that!?" I breathed. I was angry sure, but for some reason I also felt a little hurt. Certainly Julie had told him that Anton was just helping to teach us? That Anton had helped to keep us alive! Where was this coming from? What had Julie said to set him off this way? If I didn't know any better I'd say Ranger was in a jealous rage over Anton—I knew there was no love lost between them but this seemed a little extreme!

_Wait, Hold the Phone, Batman got Jealous?! Whoa._

"He said he bought you new underwear so he wouldn't have to look at my name anymore." Ranger snarled and his hands fisted in his lap and the metal chain between the bracelets clinked as his movements put stress on them. "Are you wearing them right now, _Babe_?" He snarled the endearment, " Did he buy you that dress? Did you model it for him?!"

Ranger was shaking with rage and I was suddenly glad he was restrained—physically and mentally. If Morelli had ever looked at me with as much fury as was pouring off Ranger I was certain he'd have hit me. More terrifying was that Ranger was such a control freak, he had far more patience and self-control in one little finger then Joe had ever had in his whole damn life—but he looked dangerously close to losing it right now.

Yet somehow, I wasn't afraid of Ranger, even feeling the fury roll off him in waves so electric I could feel the goose bumps rising in response on my skin. No matter how furiously he looked at me, I could never be afraid of him. But I _was_ starting to understand the problem. I felt my cheeks flush pink with outrage as much as embarrassment. Anton. _That Asshole!_ And to think I'd felt guilty enough to let him share the bed! _I was going to knee that Jerk in the balls!_

"When did you talk to him?" I said.

"The other night, you were in the shower—after _your dinner_." Ranger glared.

I sucked in a deep breath fighting for calm, if we both started losing it this whole thing would blow up like an atom bomb—we'd probably take half of Jersey with us. "Ranger, Anton is an asshole, he was _trying_ to piss you off. I had to get new clothes—I didn't have any."

"You look surprised." Ranger said, his jaw was still tight but his fists had relaxed some, the muscles in his forearms were no longer standing out in sharp relief looking ready to simply explode from his skin.

"I am," I stared at him, "I guess I didn't expect a cheap shot like that to work." I'd also decided that for some reason Anton must have a death wish. So much for his talk of not wanting to piss Ranger off—apparently that was no longer his goal. Guess I had other things to worry about beyond files that didn't add up back in New York.

"Babe," Ranger said, like I missing something obvious and he didn't want to say it. I frowned at that and he said "Babe, please tell me Anton was helping you pack and that's how he saw your underwear." His tone was tight, pained.

"Um, no. He sorta walked in on me when I was changing, but nothing happened; I told him to leave." I explained.

This didn't seem to make Ranger any happier, "I'm going to kill him," he said confirming my theory.

"Julie pretty much threatened the same thing."

"Julie?" Ranger said looking at me. His tone and look clearly said; _Explain that because Julie was clearly with me._

"It was a while ago. I was telling him to get out and next thing I know Julie's standing there with my gun in her hand, pointed at his head."

We both paused for a moment, me remembering and Ranger obviously imagining that visual—there was a hint of a smile on his face then just as quickly it slide away. "Why didn't you have your gun on you?" Ranger half snarled.

"I didn't have on any pants!" I shot back waving my arms. "He wasn't _supposed_ to _be_ _there,_ it was right after we met!"

"Why did you go to dinner with him?" He growled jaw still clenched tight, dark eyes flashing again.

"I needed to eat!" I said. "You're being ridiculous! Nothing is going on between me and Anton. You may not like it mister but you'll just have to deal with it because I still need him to get this shit done! He's a pain in my ass but he's kept me alive! And Julie!" Ranger said nothing for a long moment we stared each other down. I was breathing a little too hard and my heart was going a mile a minute.

"Why do you have a woman's things in your apartment?" I found myself suddenly saying; apparently it was now my turn to get snappish.

"_Babe_,"

"Don't you Babe me!" I snapped and Ranger's eyes darkened further. I wasn't sure if it was lust or anger causing the change this time—I pushed on. "Julie said there's a drawer with jewelry and underwear in it!" My voice was shaking, so were my hands on the steering wheel. I took a deep breathe trying to calm myself, it didn't seem to be helping.

"I can see hiding Christmas presents for Julie is going to be a pain in the ass."

_I was having an emotional jealousy induced heart attack and Ranger was cracking jokes?! _I seriously thought about hitting him for a second, and then I considered it a second more. He watched me his lips twisted at one corner like he knew. Probably even with the handcuffs it wasn't a good idea, that's how you get sent to third world countries in wooden boxes I told myself.

"So, You bought Julie a diamond necklace?" I said after another moment my tone skeptical—_that didn't explain the underwear._

"Babe," Ranger said, and his tone was a touch amused at my jealousy while still gruff with unmistakable lust. "_You_ left them in my hamper," _Oh._ I felt a wash of relief flood through me and my shoulders relaxed a little bit until he said, "and no, I didn't buy a two karat diamond necklace for Julie." My stomach knotted up again and I bit my lip hard enough to almost draw blood. _Maybe it was for his Mother_.

"It's not my Mother's." He was looking at me again, but I couldn't meet his eyes—I was suddenly afraid to. We were still stopped so I sat forward and banged my head against the steering wheel a few times. I didn't want to play twenty questions with Ranger over another woman—I didn't have the stomach for it.

Ranger's hands came up and even with the bracelets trapping his wrists he managed to cup the back of my neck with one warm palm, his fingertips curled around the other side of my neck and his thumb started drawing tiny circles under my left ear and I bit the inside of my cheek to stop a moan. Just that simple touch felt so good, it was almost soothing except for the little circles drawn by his thumb—the little sweeping motions were slowly winding my insides tighter like a live wire. I felt my nipples tighten and my insides clench.

"I went to a charity auction a few months back," Ranger said suddenly and it took my distracted brain a second to catch up. I waited forehead still against the steering wheel, eyes closed, breathing slowly through my mouth. "I bought it for you," he said so softly I almost thought I'd heard wrong.

I jerked back so fast I ended up trapping his palm between the seat and my skin now and stared at him. "Are you crazy?!" I said, "Do you know how much that cost?!" I didn't actually, but I could imagine—and I was starting to hyperventilate and I couldn't exactly put my head between my knees because the steering wheel was in the way…

_Maybe if I put my head between Ranger's knees…Omigod!_

"Babe," Ranger growled with more heat than the sun.

I jerked my gaze away, "we have to go, Tank will find us." I shifted the car into drive and punched the gas down.

"Pull off the damn road, Now."

"No," I gasped trying not to think about the heat in his voice—or between my legs . "Tank will find us," I reasoned, but my entire body was calling me a liar and a chicken.

"You shouldn't be worried about Tank," Ranger said, and his tone implied that I ought to be worried about _him_.

_Oh boy._ I licked my lips and an intriguing sound rumbled through Ranger's chest. It was animalistic, and pure sex. It made my insides flutter and pleasure curl low between my legs.

"Are you going to pull over?" Ranger said almost conversationally.

"Told you, can't. Tank will find us and then I'll get carted off somewhere." I drove for a few moments no idea where I was going, all I could think about was how my wet panties were clinging to me and the fluttering rush of tingles crawling from my belly up my spine.

"Babe you're going in circles." Ranger said and I got the raised brow again. So I took a right this time instead of a left—onto a one-way street and cursed, before fixing it by taking another right and then hooking a left. Ranger was still staring at me when I glanced at him.

"Shut up," I said and Ranger gave me a full on Wolf-Grin that made the heat in my belly shoot up by a hundred degrees. He pulled his cell phone from his pocket somehow without making it look too awkward, hit speed dial and managed to hit speaker phone with his thumb. It rang twice.

"Bossman?" Tank said when the line opened up.

"I'm offline until further notice. Don't follow. And smack Santos in the back of the head for the handcuff comment."

"Figured. Done. And Done." Tank said and Ranger disconnected.

I stared at him for a long moment, than I blinked in confusion trying to watch the road again. "What handcuff comment?" I said.

Ranger's lips twitched towards a grin and from the corner of my eye I watched his eyes traveled from my face down to my dress…when they traveled back up they stopped on my chest and his hands curled like he was resisting the urge to touch me. I squirmed in my seat. "The one he made the second we drove away with me in your bracelets." Ranger's tone oozed sex and temptation and my body's hormones all were standing at attention—like other things. Ranger growled. I licked my lips and felt my cheeks flush again.

"You wanna pull over Babe?"

_Nope, No. No I did not; that was a seriously bad idea._ So why was I doing it?

_OhShit._

The Audi stopped on the end of a dead end street between two abandoned office buildings it was like auto-pilot I swear. "You gonna answer my question's now?" I said putting on the hand break and setting the alarm although we were still inside—in this part of town I wasn't sure we were all that safe. And then I was suddenly worried about a very different kind of danger inside the car.

Ranger moved in the blink of an eye releasing my seatbelt with a quick press of one hand before twisting partially in his seat fisting his hands in the sides of my dress over my waist and then he yanked me towards him. The bracelet chain pressed tight against my skin even through the satin and he'd managed to unbalance me enough with surprise and momentum that I sort of catapulted over the center console and gear shift and ended up falling into his lap smacking into his chest and straddling him as he hauled me forward with my knees bent beside his hips in the seat.

I got out a startled squeak that sounded a lot like his name and then he rolled his hips up grinding an impossibly hard thick bulge I'd already felt once today against me, and speech stopped being possible. Even trapped in his cargo pants it was enough to make me flush with an even more intense feeling of want. I was already embarrassingly wet and ready I didn't need the tease... His hands gripped both sides of my face in his palms the handcuff chain was cold and slightly sharp under my chin. And he kissed me. Oh Boy did he kiss me!

And there was a lot of tongue.

And then there was a lot of teeth, and groans, and growls and I found myself practically riding him right there fully clothed in the passenger seat of my car. I ran my fingers through his hair pulling it free to tangle in my hands, and traced my palms down the bunched muscles of his arms feeling them flex and tense beneath my hands. I followed the flat planes of his chest feeling his heartbeat under my hand and my fingers crawled over the hard lines of his abdomen pressed against mine.

I have no idea when he let go of my face because I just couldn't stop kissing him back with the same hunger and intensity that he was lavishing on me. But I certainly noticed when his hands were on my waist again fingers bunching in the silky material under my ribs and dragging it up my body. The material slipped up over my thighs, skated across my hips and off the swell of my ass leaving me straddling Ranger's lap with just a thin scrap of now ruined lace between me and the rough zippered bulge straining and grinding against my crotch.

Ranger hissed against my lips and rolled his hips and sucked my tongue into his mouth and nipped and I lost all capacity for rational or half-way coherent thought.

I started gasping little breathless words between his kisses that sounded _way_ to much like _more_, and _yes_ and _touch me_ to be entirely healthy, mostly because Ranger _really_ didn't need the encouragement. The intensity ratcheted up another notch and I felt like the top of my head was going to come off I was burning so hot. The sound of metal clicking snagged at the edge of my attention but it didn't make sense through the lust fog in my head and then Ranger's right hand was fisted in my hair deepening the kiss he was already plundering my mouth with which should have been impossible when it already felt like he was trying to eating me alive. He growled against my lips suddenly and his weight shifted beneath me and a moment later I realized why when I registered the sensation of his fingertips tracing the lace trim of my soaked panties while his other hand was still tangled in my hair holding my lips captive to his assault.

I jerked back from his mouth, surprise denting the fog of lust in my brain. "SonofaBitch!" I snarled and he grabbed my left wrist from his chest where I'd shoved back from him and slapped the loose bracelet closed over it.

We both froze—breathing far too hard to be healthy, my pulse was rushing in my ears. His eyes dilated to pure black with desire under heavy lids. I stared at my wrist and the metal circling it blinking. Not because he'd gotten out of them; I'd half expected that honestly, and not because they were now on me. Even if I hadn't thought about that as a possibility seeing it now it wasn't that out of character. He'd tried to handcuff me before, though the intent had been different at the time—he'd been trying to drag me to a safe house not kiss me into submission with thoughts of him fucking my silly. Nope this was exactly the kind of behavior I _should_ have anticipated from Ranger, and been more prepared for…but that wasn't what had shocked me.

I stared at the handcuffs at a total loss for words because he'd only freed _one_ of his wrists.

_Ranger_ was now handcuffed to _me_.

And apparently the sight affected him just as much as me, because half a heartbeat later I was yanked forward and he was simply devouring me again. The little growling vibrations centered in his chest were doing wicked things below my waist. The tiny shudders rolling off of him every time I touched him with my still free hand were telegraphed straight to the tingling flutters in my belly. This latest rough kiss was possessive and sinfully intense against my lips. I'd probably have bruised swollen lips after this and still I leaned into him and moaned begging him to do it again. My nipples were so hard they hurt where they rubbed against the restraining fabric of my dress—and then Ranger's fingers found their way under the soaked crotch of my panties and my heart stopped beating and all the air left my lungs as every muscle in my body clenched in anticipation.

I tore my lips from his to tremble and quake with my nose buried in his neck breathing him in. I groaned into his skin smelling the intoxicating combination of Bvlgari and Male and sex. I felt him trace over me fingers gliding like silk I was so wet. I shuddered, pained with a sudden bone-melting need so intense I had to roll my hips into him trying to alleviate the ache, my entire frame jerking in response to the slow slide of his hand as every nerve in my body sparked in an instant sweetly torturous rush of lust so powerful I would do anything to make it go away.

"Ranger, _please_," I clung to his chest and he parted me with one long finger and I shook and moaned my body centered on that single digit testing my wetness for him. He withdrew far too soon while my body tightened in desperate response. I cried out so empty I it almost hurt and the finger returned—this time with a second one and _God yes_, my body liked that—_it liked that a lot._ But somehow it still wasn't good enough…I thrashed in his lap, my nails digging into his shoulder panting his name against his neck my left hand trapped between our bodies dragged by the bracelet connecting us. I wrapped my fingers in his black t-shirt over his abdomen and simply held on to him begging. And then he curled his fingers still inside me just once with a sudden flick of his wrist hitting the perfect spot on his first damn try and I threw my head back lost in the first ripple of orgasm so intense I wasn't sure I'd ever breath again as it overtook me.

Wave after wave of heat and sweet mind-numbing pleasure spiraled out through every part of me making my toes curl and my breath catch in my throat. I'd just started to come down, and gasp for air again against his neck whimpering his name when he pinched my clit and his head bent forward 'til his mouth found the pulse point of my neck and he bit down with an animalistic growl and just like that I shot off on another storm of pleasure that had me sobbing his name into his skin and soaking his hand, grinding helplessly against his palm where he was steadily moving his fingers possessively inside me.

"_Carlos_, babe, _say it."_

_I wasn't sure I could say much of anything._ I leaned my forehead damp with sweat against the Bvlgari scented skin of his warm neck and opened my eyes to find myself instantly distracted by the sudden proximity to a lot of gorgeous mocha latte slightly salty Ranger skin.

Slightly salty because I'd just swirled my tongue over his pulse point like he'd done to me. I traced my lips over his throat feeling his hands tighten against me and his voice growl my name at the ceiling. My tongue found its way to the crease where muscled body met neck just above the collar of his t-shirt and I sucked and licked and Ranger started speaking Spanish again—only now I _knew_ the language, and if I thought just the tone was pure sex it had _nothing_ on the words as he _begged me not to stop, begged me to let him take me right here, take me in his bed, he begged to fuck me, and lick me and taste me and touch me_…and heat rushed through me thinking about all those things, and _dear god_ I wanted them too…_all of them_, and _then some_.

I nodded my head desperately against the crook of his neck clinging to his shoulder with one hand. Ranger shifted, bumping my inner thighs with his arm and then his thighs and then he reached between us with our braceleted hands and I felt him press his head against me through a barrier of lace so wet it disguised nothing. He pressed tight against my folds even through the lace and I felt the material give just enough so I could feel him parting me—and then stopping. And that had me hissing and rolling against him, every nerve in my body burning in frustration.

_Now, Now, I needed him right Now._ I clawed at his back and gasped and whimpered against his neck rolling my hips grinding against him with blind need.

"Dios! Babe, Te necesito, God Stephanie, babe I need you, Quiero hacer el amor contigo, hazme el amor tu por favor, no se detienen…"

He hooked one finger against the edge of my panties shoving them aside and I gripped his wrist above the metal ring encircling his skin my whole body contracted with need—tightening in anticipation and a flood of liquid heat coated him where he pressed his tip into me. I felt him shift, felt my pelvis roll, tilting to the perfect angle with some primal instinct and then I started to sink. "Condom!" I gasped with the last tiny thread of coherent thinking abilities.

"No_, Feel me_." Ranger growled and thrust up taking me all at once. Stars burst behind my eyes, my breath tangled up in my throat and I felt the delicious burn teetering on the verge of pleasure and pain and whimpered at the sensation only his body gave me.

Ranger groaned low in his throat, "God, mi amor, eres _mio_! _Mine_," cursing in a hiss of pleasure and distress as I sank all the way over him. His hands tightened to the point of pain where he gripped me flush against him. He tilted his head back against the seat rest and I watched in rapt fascination as he swallowed a few times, before letting his eyes slip closed and his lips parted and he let out a few honest to god panting gasps fighting for control.

He looked like he was winning the battle until I leaned forward on impulse driving him deeper with my new angle and licking his Adam's apple on its next distracting bob. He growled in response and his body throbbed, swelling harder inside me when I was already stretched around him impossibly tight, all my muscles clenched like a fist over his length sending sparks dancing behind my eyes in response—and he hadn't even moved yet. We sat lost in sensation, both trembling and breathing and he seemed to recover from that a moment later too—until I did it again and this time I added teeth to the caress nipping at his throat before sucking the same abused skin past my lips to taste the unique heady flavor of Ranger on my tongue.

My dress was peeled off my shoulders in the next instant—the zipper at my back possibly split, and I didn't care because in the next moment Ranger's head dipped and his mouth was on me again. Half my right breast lost to the searing heat of his mouth while his tongue laved and teased over my nipple before treating my left breast to the same thing. Little possessive words in a mix of languages licked and hissed and kissed into my skin. Then he added his palm and fingers to the mix and I cried out and came apart again. I writhed and squirmed over top of him, around him and Ranger growled and jerked inside of me making me tighten even more. He started making these little mind-altering vibrations with his hips beneath me; inside me, barely moving his hips but keeping up the most delicious friction inducing rhythm while I clung desperately to him rolling my hips in response.

My brain was filled with white noise, head tipped back under the assault of pleasure so intense and all-consuming tearing through me from breast to neck to clit and then he added a little _grind_ to the vibrations and _oh god yes there, _I sobbed against his skin…And Ranger ramped up the little grind thing again and each time he did it he rolled his hips a little bit and the pressure went straight to my clit and I felt it rising over me like a tidal wave—overwhelming, a little bit terrifying. And then it was overtaking me and I couldn't do anything but surrender to it.

I cried out, clinging to him as I fractured, shattered, exploded so hard it nearly had me blacking out from it as wave after wave pounded though me so hard and fast I couldn't keep up. And then Ranger grabbed my hips and lifted me just enough off of him that he could slam his hips up into me even with sharp possessive thrusts even as my body fought to keep him from withdrawing tightening and trembling with each unending spasm of heat crashing through me.

He growled my name and thrust once, twice, three times so deep and furiously fast I'd probably bruise and even walk funny and I didn't care about that, or how I'd hide the finger shaped bruises certain to mark my skin by tomorrow morning. I was too busy feeling him explode inside me, the blistering heat radiating all the way to my toes as he filled me with a breathless groan, pouring Spanish words of love and possession and promise against my neck setting me off all over again while I choked on the air halfway up my throat sobbing and keening his name and clinging to him as my body tried impossibly to come apart again even though I hadn't even made it back down from before.

I don't know how much time passed before I was even half aware that I was still straddling him in his seat, and he was still buried half hard inside of me. The whole car smelled like sex and his warm chest even through his black t-shirt felt glorious and warm against my bare hyper-sensitive skin. I stretched against him like a cat and he tightened his arm around me tilting my chin up to meet his eyes. I had no idea what I looked like but Ranger's mouth turned up into the softest smile I'd ever seen grace his lips, his eyes were still dark with lust—nearly ebony with heat and I felt another spasming rush of lust tighten my insides and he groaned as my body contracted around him making him twitch.

"That," I said, a little breathless still, "didn't exactly go the way I planned."

Ranger pulled my lips against his, "I can't say the same." He said one hand cupping my chin he nuzzled his nose against mine in an intimate act so tender it made my chest ache and then he kissed me. I was feeling all flushed and tingly again when he pulled back to press his lips to the tip of my nose, and temple and chin. "Babe, mi amor, mi razón de vivir." (my love, my reason for living,)

I went very still in his lap my breath tangling up in my throat at his words. "Carlos, por favor no digas cosas que no quieres deci ..." (please don't say things you don't mean)

Now it was Ranger's turn to go very still against me. "Babe," he breathed, his eyes darkening, going liquid. "Usted me puede entender? Quién te enseñó? Anton?" (You can understand me? Who taught you, Anton?)

"Hector, Julie and Anton." I said slowly my heart racing in my chest waiting for him to brush off the words.

"Que Dios me ayude, yo pensaba que no podía ser más deseable , es que ya está ..." Ranger groaned and recaptured my lips. (God help me, I thought you couldn't be more desirable then you already are…)

"Te extrañé mucho, Dios babe, so much, Necesitaba tocarte, sentirte envuelto alrededor de mí…" (I missed you so much, God babe, so much. I needed to touch you, feel you wrapped around me…)

I was stunned into silence just listening to him pour out words against the crook of my neck. "Te amo Stephanie, babe, I love you, God so much, I thought I'd lost you."

I couldn't breathe. "You, love me?"

Ranger pulled back to meet my gaze, cupping the side of my face with his palm. "Yes Babe, God yes. I love you, te amo; te amo con todo…" he nuzzled his lips against mine again, brushing them back and forth in a sweeping sort of caress, almost a kiss.

"Carlos…" _What happened to qualifiers?_

"No qualifiers, babe, no more rules—I want _you_, _all of you_. No hay excepciones, todo lo que soy es tuyo. Por favor, dices que me necesitas, dime que me amas." (No exceptions, all I am is yours, please say you need me, tell me you love me.)

"I love you Carlos."

Ranger groaned and sealed his lips to mine in a damn near bruising kiss, "Say it again babe," I did and he groaned against my mouth capturing my bottom lip between his teeth teasing me before kissing me with a whole lot of tongue and teeth and heat.

I started to squirm in his lap, "Stop, Ranger, _Carlos_—stop I'm going to get a cramp." I was still half folded in his lap straddling him and my toes were starting to fall asleep from the sharp bend of my knees. He pulled back just enough to tuck a few loose strands of hair behind my ear again.

"Where are you staying?"

"Trying to get yourself invited into my bed?" I shot back and Ranger tilted his hips up to grind against me again with a growl. I tipped my head back and gasped when the movement ground against my hypersensitive clit.

"Babe, I'm the only one who's ever going to be in your bed again."

_Dear God, Batman for life..._

I blinked at him and he nodded slowly cupping my face with one hand, his fingers lacing through mine where the handcuffs had us entangled.

"Yes babe, for life. Now what did you want to discuss?"

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**TBC...**

He just fried her brain with sex and confessions and NOW he want to talk?!


	36. Chapter 36

**Disclaimer: ** Not my characters, except Anton and he seems to be more trouble then good! Alpha males! Yikes!

**Notes: ** Sorry for the short break, plague of doom went through my house and wiped everyone out. Still fighting it off a bit myself so have patience with me por favor! (Ha and I thought I'd never have a use for my Spanish! Ranger porn...er I mean fanfiction...yeah...) I hope the tone of this chapter matches the others, I hate having to break like that but RL happens to the best of us right?

Kind of a short chapter today, and probably tomorrow to if I can get the rest of 37 written tonight before I crash. I'm trying to wind this up in the next 5-8 chapters so I can work on some of my other stories, I don't want this to drag on too long when my muse keeps throwing me new ideas! ; )

I tried to explain here some subtle reasoning for why Stephanie is so damn on-again/off-again in the books, because seriously that girl by book 21? Even I want to smack her! -_-

It might raise some eyebrows but, I can tell you from experience my Italian hubby can always tell when I'm in baby making mode...even if I fail to notice! XD

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_Huge thanks to all the readers and reviewers, I cannot believe how much response this story has gotten! It makes me feel amazing, you truly have no idea! Thank you, Thank you, and Thank you Again! :D_

This chapter is **Rated M**...in fact lets just assume that ANY chapter from here on out, henceforth, and all that jazz; if R/S are in the same room they're going to probably fornicate like rabid ferrets...and if they don't, well you can bet your ass they're both thinking about it!

Saucy wenches...

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**Chapter Thirty-Six**

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**Stephanie's POV**

_I blinked at him and he nodded slowly cupping my face with one hand, his fingers lacing through mine where the handcuffs had us entangled. __"__Yes babe, this is forever, now what did you want to discuss?"_

I let my eyes slide away from his gaze and his face hoping to clear the fog in my brain. God, I wasn't sure I even remembered. My whole body was still tingly and twitchy all my muscles felt relaxed enough that I could slide off Ranger's lap and right into a puddle on the floorboards at his feet. Oh yeah, I was feeling very, very happy. I know I had questions for him, there were the whole reason I'd started this—but I was feeling a little too fuzzy to concentrate still. _I needed to get off him, that would probably help_ I reasoned. Ranger's grin ramped up and he rolled his hips again. "Already got off babe, but give me a minute and we can do that again…"

I dropped my head against his chest and groaned._Forget wizard, the man was a machine!__Probably sent from the future to take over the world.__Step one was obviously give Stephanie earth-shattering orgasms turning me into total mush, I wasn't clear on step two, but I was positive step three was total world domination._

_Oh, domination… wait! No!__Crap. _

_I was doomed._

Ranger snorted, _wait snorted?_ And dipped his head forward and started working up the side of my neck again forcing a shiver up my spine that hardened my nipples to rock hard points and shot heat straight between my legs despite the fact that just seconds ago I'd felt completely sated_. Fuck_. This man was like a drug, and I been an instant addict from the moment we'd met. I shook my head grasping his shoulder for support as best I could with one free hand because _this was never going to work_, not like this I needed serious answers, my life depended on them, maybe Julie's too.

I tried to crawl off of him and back into my seat and Ranger's forearms locked around my waist dragging one of my own arms behind my back with the bracelet trapping me against him. "I can't—" I blew out a breath feeling him lick his way up from the hollow of my throat to nibble my ear while my head tipped back, "think like this an—" I moaned, "this isn't…ah….ah…_Jesus…Ranger_…"

"_Carlos_," Ranger said dragging me back firmly into his lap.

"Carlos..." I tried to push up off him again only to have Ranger use his arms wound around my lower back to pull me back down in a very intriguing thrusting grind that sparked the aftershocks still tightening sporadically in my belly into overdrive. I felt his stomach muscles tighten against me, and other parts of his anatomy go rock hard and bit my lip pushing up with my thighs digging my knees into the sides of the seat where they still framed his hip. Ranger let me rise a few inches before his arms tightened again forcing me to sink back down burying him again, this time he felt like granite between my legs. My internal muscles clenched, pleasure zinged out through my limbs and I was starting to think _this distraction thing wasn't so bad...it felt_, I moaned rising over him again, _pretty incredible actually… _

I forgot my objections and started moving over him in more of a syncopated rhythm letting him pull me back down harder and faster every few thrusts before adding a little tight roll of my hips stimulating the super sensitive bundle of nerves above where we were joined again. Ranger stopped pulling me down against him, his hands moved from my back and were now framing my hips steadying my position as I rode him into the seat gasping and moaning with every rush of sensation to the ceiling.

I locked my free hand around his shoulder, the other around his forearm as high as I could reach and then I lost myself in a very different kind of '_zone'_ one with lots of heavy panted breathing, and a few cursed exclamations from Ranger, or maybe from me actually, I wasn't that sure anymore. My tempo increased to somewhere just shy of desperate and it felt like my shaking thighs might give out right when I really needed them to drive me over that perfect edge…

"So close," I gasped breathless and then he was lifting me with both hands and jerking me back down again following the rhythm I'd abandoned as my legs started to tremor with exhaustion. I tightened and tightened squeezing him until it was Ranger that bit his lip, his head falling back against the seat with a frantic curse and a soft whimper that sounded like surrender as he ground my body against him hitting me with the first waves of orgasm like a freight train rolling through my veins.

My lungs seized up, my muscles tamped down around him in a blistering firestorm, I cried out in wordless pleasure, and startled surprise and collapsed boneless against Ranger's chest as I came apart and my spine simply refused to hold me up. Ranger grunted rolling his hips beneath me, brushing my nub with each hard grind of his hips while he groaned desperately against my neck, growling words of love and my name against my ear and clutching me to him as he found release inside me again.

We sat perfectly still, both of us sort of shaking and trying to remember how to breathe for several long minutes.

"I really do need those answers." I finally managed, the words muffled and slurred almost drunkenly against his neck. Then it hit me. Oh shit.

"Ranger, that was twice," I licked my lips afraid to lean back and see his face when it hit him. "and we didn't use a condom."

"Okay," Ranger said, like he was still waiting for me to tell him what the problem was.

_What?!_ My brain screeched. _Who was this man and what had he done with Batman?! _ I sat back slowly, and stared at him. "I thought you didn't do stupid things like babies and marriage, what happened to a condom and not a ring?"

"I'm an idiot." Ranger said, "as soon as you say yes there's going to be a ring on your hand."

_Holy shit!_ I must have been doing a fish impersonation because Ranger used his index finger to lift my chin. "I'm not sure I'm ready to be a parent…"

"Babe, what about Julie?"

"That's different!"

That eyebrow rose.

"Well it is! Julie's a kid!"

"Relax babe, you're not ovulating right now."

I blinked. Then I blushed ten shades of red and started looking around trying to cover my embarrassment.

"Babe, what are you doing?"

"Clearly, I'm trying to find the invisible label that gives you this information…"

Ranger grinned and tipped my chin up to face him. "Babe, I've kept track of your cycles for almost two years."

I just stared at him trying to convert that information into something my brain could understand. What came out was: _Ranger knows when I have PMS? Yikes, were my mood swings that bad?!_

Ranger shook his head. "I'm observant babe, all those times you broke it off and then got back together with Morelli," he hesitated.

"Yeah…" I said. I didn't think I was going to like where this was going one bit.

"Most of the time you broke things off a week before you're cycle and got back on with him was when you were ovulating." He said it so bluntly, so matter of fact that for almost thirty seconds I just sat frozen in his lap.

Then the indignation caught up with me and I slapped his chest with one hand. Ranger didn't even flinch. "That's Ridiculous! Nobody Knows that! I didn't want Morelli like that!"

"Like what?"

"Marriage, and babies!" My _mother_ wanted that, me married to Joe with 2.5 babies and a burg house. I shuddered and tried to cross my arms before remembering that I couldn't. Damn Handcuffs.

"Babe, why did you get back together with Morelli so many times?"

_I didn't really want to think about that, it still made my stomach hurt. _

"You don't even know why. He wasn't supportive, he wasn't convenient because he was always pushing you to do things you didn't want. He lured you back in with sex, and nine times out of ten when you were the most fertile, you folded. Hormones are powerful things."

I opened my mouth to shout _No!_ and then stopped. _Oh my god, what if Ranger was right? _"Stupid Hungarian hormones," I growled, they'd been jerking my around like a yo-yo for years! "So you're not trying to get me knocked up with a bat baby?"

Ranger's fingers trailed up my bare arms. "Not at this moment, but if you want to revisit this topic in about 14 days you let me know."

_Oh Jeeze_. I'd think about this later, it was simply too bizarre to contemplate on top of everything else today. "I can't believe you keep track of things like that!" I could feel my face flushing again and looked for something to distract myself until it went away. I pulled the edges of my dress back up over my chest where it kept slipping down with one shaking hand frowning at the material which simply refused to stay. I reached around my back and felt around before frowning at him again. "Did you break my zipper?"

Ranger shot me a wolf grin.

I frowned. "That's so not cool Batman, how am I going to get back into my hotel?" Getting arrested would probably ruin my plans!

Ranger just looked at me. "Are you going back to your hotel?" The line of his mouth had gone hard and tight again, and the little stress lines at the corners of his eyes were back.

"I have to go back," I traced my fingers over the lines beside his temple trying to smooth them with my fingertip. Anton would be back tomorrow, and we had mere days left before we moved against the Vikhrov family that originally put the contract out on Julie and me, and I still had to figure out how the hell all those other people were involved—_if_ they were involved, and how.

"Trevino has you running background on hits for him." Ranger said without preamble. I sucked in a breath, suspicion confirmed. _Damn._ _Hits for who? The Government?_ Ranger didn't say. "But you already knew that didn't you?" Ranger continued, he was starting to sound a little angry again.

I nodded very slowly staring at his chest. "I started to suspect it was something like that with these last files." I admitted and then I frowned and leaned back away from him chewing that over and not meeting his eyes. _Shit. Now what was I supposed to do? Confront Anton?__Ignore it?__I couldn't do that…and I couldn't go this alone. _

"Babe, Trevino is a dangerous man. He's not someone you want to pair up with, he tends to get the people around him killed." The blank face was back when I glanced at him, but it didn't reach his eyes. Ranger's eyes were smoldering with barely contained anger. "I'm sure there's nothing he'd like more then to turn you into his own personal assistant, pretty soon he's going to have you pulling the trigger."

I bristled. "I would never…" _but hadn't I? Oh God._ I blanched. "That was to protect Julie!" I shot back shoving away from his chest as far as his arms would allow. The car was suddenly feeling pretty small for this conversation. I had an unbelievable urge to pace, probably the Italian genes. "I didn't have a choice. They were in the house…" I stopped biting the words off. _It was self-defense_, _or well Julie-Defense_, though honestly Batman Jr. had proven once again to be more than capable of defending herself that night.

"Babe?" Ranger leaned into me catching one of the thick strands of hair and tugging it lightly between his fingers. "If someone was after you or Julie and you got to them first that's self-defense. And my moral compass doesn't have _any_ problem with that. The law doesn't argue that. I'm so damn proud of you babe, I always knew you were stronger then you thought. Everything you've done—you amaze me Stephanie."

God I loved hearing those words from him.

"I amaze you?"

Ranger nodded once. "I miss the curls." He said suddenly, almost conversationally, while winding one chunk of smooth chocolate tresses around his index finger. I frowned trying to look up at my own head, but it made me feel sort of cross-eyed. Considering some of the horror's my hair had undergone over the years I wasn't missing the curls all that much myself. At least it wasn't yellow, or rainbow colored.

"I thought you said my hair was scary." I said.

"Babe," Ranger's mouth twitched. "You've never been scary,"

"Oh?" I tried to raise one eyebrow but I could feel them both go up in tandem again. Damn. "You told me my morning look was scary. You said, and I quote_, looking a little scary babe_." Ranger's lips twitched at my impersonation. I'd cross my arms over my chest if I wasn't still handcuffed to him. I'd also once told him I was using my 'morning look' as a new form of birth-control. Ranger hadn't seemed all that deterred.

"Babe I was trying to remind myself not to rip that tank top off your body and ravage you, it was completely see through…and it had nothing on this dress…"

_Oh Boy._ _Distract, Divert, Change the subject!_ "I have a gun," I said. "I'm supposed to be threatening." That didn't come out petulant at all I swear.

Ranger shot me a wolf grin. "I'm not feeling particularly threatened, but I like to live dangerously."

I rolled my eyes. "What am I supposed to do? No one's afraid of Stephanie Plum! Wonder woman never had these problems." I bit out feeling a tiny rise in my heart rate, this time hinting at my own returning frustration. I hated being backed into a corner, and this was one hell of a corner to find myself in! "People keep coming after us Ranger. I just want it to stop. I don't want to have to look over our shoulders every five minutes wondering what's coming at us next."

What looked like hurt flashed through Ranger's expression, but I couldn't be certain as it was gone in the blink of an eye. He reached into his front cargo pocket with his unrestrained hand and pulled out a little silver key in two nimble fingers. I watched as he uncuffed first my hand rubbing his thumb briefly over the sharp red line marring my wrist his fingertip resting for a moment against my pulse beating frantically under my skin, and then he removed the second bracelet from his own wrist and offered the cuffs back to me draped over one hooked finger.

"We." Ranger said.

Something warm fluttered in my chest. I took the cuffs closing my hand around them. "What do _we_ do Ranger?"

"You trust me, babe. We're gonna get through this. You want answers I'll tell you what I can." He helped me slide back over the center console and into my seat. "I assume you won't go to Rangeman?"

"No,"

"Will you take me to where you're staying?"

"Are you wearing a tracker?"

"My phone has GPS. I told Tank I was offline, and I am babe. I'm all yours until we're done with this."

"Okay, but if Tank and Lester kick in my door and handcuff me I'm never speaking to you again!"

Ranger nodded once and I started driving. He settled back against the passenger seat and seemed to do his 'zone' thing. Twenty minutes later he instructed me to pull into an upcoming CVS Pharmacy two lights away.

"What for?" I asked, even though I'd already changed lanes.

"Safety pins, for the back of your dress." Ranger said.

_Oh, I hadn't thought of that. "_Thank you," I said.

"And condoms, lots of condoms." Ranger grinned.

_and, Oh boy._ There went my hormones again.

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**TBC...**


	37. Chapter 37

**Disclaimer: **Not mine, bummer!

**Notes: **Sorry_ about the delay in posting, still sick over here and this chapter was very difficult to write dialog-wise and I'm still not completely happy with it! *gnashes teeth* But instead of continuing to obsess over it I'm moving on! Because people are waiting and I'm not sure if I'm simply being too critical with it. I also ended up splitting this chapter into two because this section was about 13 pages and the next part pushed it over 20 and that was a bit much for one chapter to handle!_

_I hope it doesn't feel like it ends to abruptly for anyone! I'm going to try to get the next chapter out tomorrow if Anton and Ranger will cooperate with me still! -_-_

**Rated**** M!** This chapter earns it's rating! Just incase you weren't expecting adult content by now...yeah, *ahem*

* * *

_**Thanks! **Huge thanks to all the readers/favoriters (so not a word, I know!) and reviewers! I'd like to type out everyone's name again but there are so many now that It might take me an hour to flip back and forth! Thank you guys so, so much for all your reading and reviews and support!_

_I cherish every bit of communication I receive you just don't know, I bounce around the house like a kid on a sugar high! :D_

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**Chapter Thirty-Seven**

**(Stephanie's POV still)**

The drive to New York was undertaken in silence, driving with Ranger is usually done quietly so I can't say I'm surprised even in spite of recent events. It wasn't like I suddenly expected Batman to turn into Chatty Cathy. I don't know what Ranger was thinking about in his zone for the last hour as we made the trip from Trenton, New Jersey to the over flowing taxi crowded streets of New York, but I couldn't help but focus on the way the muscles in my inner thighs kept trembling and jumping under my skin from our earlier exertion. Guess I need to spend more time stretching when I run.

When I pulled the Audi up to the Peninsula hotel we'd been staying at I expected Ranger to say something, instead he just got out of the car and circled to the driver's side to open my door for me before the valet could blink in reaction to our arrival let alone move to take my key. Ranger pulled it from my fingertips and tossed it to the valet without a word.

"Have a good day Mrs. Paretti," The Valet called after us and I wondered how much Anton had to tip the guy so he'd remember my name, though maybe it was the car the remembered. It was hard to forget a car this sweet. Ranger was looking straight ahead but I noticed the muscles in his jaw twitch at the name.

"Mrs.?" Ranger said. "He's got you going by _Mrs. Paretti_?" His voice had dropped to an angry hiss.

"Yeah, why? It's just a cover, I'm not actually married!"

Ranger was moving us across the marble foyer and up the staircase to the elevators, he waited until we were ensconced in one and alone before he turned to face me and his eyes were hard as stone. "Babe, Paretti is the name of one of his covers, like Marc Pardo is for me."

I remembered Ranger saying that he owned the ID of Marc Pardo, it wasn't something he just threw away when he was done. So what did that mean that Anton had married me to one of his cover ID's? _Oh boy. No wonder Ranger was pissed!_Ranger's hand lifted and his fingertips closed over the Saint Michael medal resting on my skin. "Anton wears one of these as well."

"It doesn't mean anything." I said.

"Babe," and Ranger's tone clearly said, '_Really? You expect me to believe that?'_

_Well it didn't, did it?_ I thought about the dinner and everything Anton had said, _Crap_. I tipped my neck forward and rested my forehead against his chest and I swear some of the tension eased out of him, not all of it, but enough I was no longer worried Ranger might go off on a killing spree any minute.

"Can't leave you alone for a minute babe without the devil swooping in,"

"So Anton is evil?" I mumbled back my voice muffled by his shirt.

"Babe, I operate in shades of legal grey," I nodded against him in acknowledgement—he'd told me this before. "I have a moral compass and I try damn hard to stand by it." Ranger added, though it wasn't necessary—I remembered that part too. That moral compass allowed Ranger to bend the law when it fit him, and I was also pretty damn sure it had allowed for him to kill when he thought I'd needed protecting.

"Anton doesn't see black or white babe, his whole world is a very slippery slope of grey—and as long as I've known him he hasn't had a real strong set of morals, at least none that I've witnessed."

I remembered insisting that Anton looked like he'd sell his mother for a nickel and him laughing at me and sucked in a breath wondering if the _real_ reason he'd laughed at me was because I'd been right all along. _God what did I get myself into? _

_The lesser of two evils, Stephanie! _ I reminded myself and then I straightened up with a tight frown and behind my back the elevator door dinged announcing the floor to my suite. I turned on my heel and led Ranger down the hallway to the door marked with the fancy name and number of our suite. I unlocked the door and silently prayed that when I opened it _Mr. Paretti_ wasn't already home. I don't think anyone could blame me for wanting to put off that particular encounter a little while longer.

I glanced inside and breathed a small sigh of relief when the suite appeared empty as I opened the door and started to enter. Ranger's restraining hand on my arm however quickly brought me up short. His gun was out in front of him in both hands in mere seconds and I watched him move forward to sweep the suite ignoring my call of "Ranger, Seriously?"

I moved forward away from the door shutting it behind me softly and ignored the look Ranger shot me when I didn't follow his order to wait in the hall like I would have in my old apartment. What did he really expect to find here anyway? It's not like Anton would be hiding behind furniture waiting to jump out and grab me…

Well, not after the knee to balls incident anyway. I smiled to myself remembering that and Ranger's brow rose in question until I waved him off to do his thing. I knew he wouldn't relax until he was certain the 'perimeter' or 'location' or Hell whatever lingo he wanted to call it was secure.

I set my things on the bar and watched Ranger from the corner of my eye as he swept his gaze over the living room and dining area before opening the door to the entry way closet, which was empty and then the bedroom suite in an attempt to clear the other rooms the same way he always did my apartment checking for stalkers and killer dust bunnies—since I didn't have any stalkers that I knew of, and the hotel had probably never had dust bunnies I wasn't too worried. Nobody knew who I was here, and everyone that knew the real me for the most part thought I was dead, which didn't make for a lot of visitors of any kind.

Ranger frowned down at me when I squeezed by his chest bumping into him since his frame was more than partially blocking the doorway to the bedroom where he seemed frozen for some reason. I uttered a soft "excuse me," slipping by him but I wasn't sure if he even heard me since I didn't get a reaction from him, not even a flick of his eyes in my direction. I flicked my eyes to follow his gaze and realized he was staring at the bed.

"Does Anton sleep in here," Ranger asked voice tight and barely restrained.

"No," and okay _once_, but I didn't think he was really asking _that _exactly. I was pretty certain Ranger was still worried I'd slept with Anton, as in _slept_, slept. Which _never _happened, _not even close, _the first and only time he'd tried to kiss me I'd slapped the shit out of him. I turned away from the statue of perfectly still Cuban muscle blocking the doorway and kept walking so I didn't have to school my expression and hoping he would drop it. I needed to get out of this dress and into something that wasn't held up by safety pins, though Ranger had done a good job with them and from any distance you'd be hard pressed to even tell the dresses zipper was broken.

I left Ranger still looming in the doorway looking unhappy—I wasn't sure if he was upset about the suite, the name, or something else but I was certain that in a moment he would tell me. I might as well get changed while he got around to it, I didn't think it would take him that long honestly. When Ranger has something to say people listen. It was a skill I was still working on mastering. Sometimes I wondered if I'd ever really master it or if it was another one of those things you had to be born with—like the _zone _thing.

I was struggling with the pins in the back of my dress when I felt Ranger come up behind me in the dressing room, his warm hands replacing mine so I could stop struggling at an awkward angle to remove the pins without stabbing myself in the back repeatedly or getting a cramp in my muscles. Ranger's hands made quick work of the pins from the top of my back down to the last one just above the curve of my ass. I shivered when his fingers slipped inside the material ghosting up both sides of my spine to the back of my neck and then he peeled the dress off my body to puddle at me feet and turned me to face him in the span of a heartbeat. Ranger had my back pressed against the back wall of the closet trapped against the firm wall of his chest encircled in his arms and wearing nothing but my previously ruined panties and knee high boots. "That's a good look for you babe," his tone was thick with lust.

"Ranger—" was all I got out before he was kissing me again.

Several minutes later I was breathy heavy and Ranger wasn't sounding much better. "I need a shower," I finally managed to gasp right before his mouth crashed into mine again. Parts of me were embarrassingly sticky from earlier and I was starting to get uncomfortable.

Ranger's fingers hooked over the waistband of my panties next to my hips and he slid them down my legs—somehow without breaking our kiss and until they got caught on my boots and I had to pull away from him to alternately stand on one leg so I could remove them. When I looked up again Ranger was also naked.

_Holy HotFlash_ this man is pure sin. I ran my hands over his chiseled chest marveling at all that mocha flavored shell of hot skin with just the right amount of muscle underneath flexing and moving under my roaming hands. Ranger's nipples hardened as I trailed my fingertips over them and I licked my lips wondering how they'd taste.

"Babe,"

_Hmm?_ I blinked up at him and Ranger was grinning.

"I thought you wanted a shower?" Ranger said.

_Oh. Right._ We moved from the closet to the bathroom and Ranger started up the jets in the glass walled shower that was more than big enough for two—strange how I'd never noticed it before now. Ranger steered me under the spray and we started out getting clean—and then we got dirty all over again when Ranger pinned me to the tile wall of the shower and I wrapped my legs around his waist while he moved inside of me in a perfect rhythm driving me over the edge several times in the first few minutes. I traced my fingers down his chest again, following the cascading drops of water as they moved down his skin until Ranger pinned my hands beside my head and kissed me senseless. By the time my last orgasm hit in tandem with his my head was tilted back against the tile wall breaking our kiss and I was sobbing and screaming his name mindlessly to the ceiling.

When he finally let me slide down his body to stand on wobbly legs a few bleary moments later I watched him grab a washcloth and some of the body soap before diligently and gently clean me all over again. I bit my lip realizing we'd done it _again_. I really hoped Ranger was right about the whole ovulation thing—I wasn't ready for bat babies, I was still trying to wrap my head around finally having Batman!

We dried off and I left the steam filled bathroom to get dressed in the closet choosing a comfortable pair of black yoga pants and a plain black t-shirt over a slightly lacy bra and pantie set while behind me Ranger stole a pair of Anton's clothing to replace the one he'd been wearing when I kidnapped him. When I turned around he'd I found him in a pair of solid black work out pants with pockets and a plain t-shirt that fit tight enough to be a tattoo over his chest making my breath catch. He didn't borrow underwear, which I tried not to notice, though I honestly wasn't sure if Anton even had any—I never noticed, and it wasn't like I went looking for them like I did that time on seven trying to find the silk boxers of Batman…I blushed and Ranger lifted one eyebrow while tucking his gun into the small of his back beneath his shirt. I didn't comment. I had several guns stashed in various places throughout the apartment suite.

We moved to the main area of the living room and I grabbed two bottles of water from the fridge and sat next to Ranger on the sofa eying the files spread out on the coffee table in front of us from my previous perusal before I'd left.

"So what can you tell me?" I asked after taking a healthy swig.

Ranger was leaned back against the arm rest watching me, expression neutral but not exactly blank. "What do you want to know?" he said.

"How long have you known Anton? Does he do what you do?" _Are you a hitman for the government?_ I didn't ask though I desperately wanted to know.

"I'm not a hitman, babe." Ranger's expression remained the same, but the lines around his mouth tightened slightly and his gaze moved out the window to the building across the street. "I met Anton on a mission eight years ago, we've had a few run-ins and even been required to work together a few times since then—we're not on the best terms."

_I'd gathered that already_. I snorted softly and Ranger continued ignoring me.

"Anton doesn't do the same work as me, he started out as an Army Ranger like I did—but he doesn't function well with a team, as far as I know he switched to the banner of the CIA a few years ago but when he's not working for them he freelances and does his own thing."

Like Ranger did with Rangeman.

"Yes and No babe, Anton doesn't have a company, obviously—he's just one man, and he doesn't have a moral compass so a lot of his money comes from questionable places. I know he's taken hits for our government, and also from private parties when he finds them—there was some concern a few years ago that he was taking on contracts outside the country, and might have been offering other countries intelligence work but he covered his tracks well and no one could ever prove it. The last two years he's been doing mostly black ops so there isn't much of a paper trail to track him. He works in the shadows; almost always alone, when someone needs to disappear Anton makes it happen."

I stared at the water bottle in my hands twisting and untwisting the cap repeatedly with my right hand while I thought about that. It was similar to what Anton had said about Ranger months ago—minus the hit man thing—though I assumed that when Anton talked about Ranger being the boogie man he wasn't suggesting Ranger showed up in the middle of the night to see the bad guy and that they had a nice little chat with hot chocolate and then he left again.

"Babe?"

"Do you kill people?" I was still staring at my hands. Neither of us spoke for a few heart beats. I don't know why I was asking—I knew he'd killed, or was 99% certain it had been him. Maybe I just wanted to see if he would answer me, there was so much about Ranger he held in secret. Man of mystery fit him to a T. I wondered how much of what Anton said about him was true; was Ranger a monster and I'd never seen it? Was I blinded by my feelings for him? Joe used to insist Ranger was insane, but I'd always ignored his ranting because I felt like Joe didn't like Ranger because of my feelings for him.

Tension coiled in my chest at the thought, and my stomach turned sour. _No. Ranger wasn't a monster_, I didn't believe the words when Anton said them, and sitting next to him now I wouldn't believe them. I _couldn't_. It wasn't _possible to believe something like that about Batman_.

Ranger's hand settled on the back of my neck and I felt the tension in my shoulders melt away under the heat of his hand. "Yes, I've killed people Stephanie. Sometimes, there isn't another way." Ranger finally said very quietly. "I've killed when someone I love is in danger and I need to keep them safe."

I nodded slowly taking a deep breath. _Ranger had killed for me. I had killed for Julie. _ If Ranger was a monster, if any small part of me believed that; what did that make me? Ranger said nothing for a long time and his hand left me before I heard him draw in a heavy breath. "Babe, Stephanie—does that change the way you feel about me?" His voice was drawn and tight, quiet with a tone I rarely heard from him I realized it was pain, _insecurity _and I rushed to shake my head.

"No." I looked at him needed to reassure him, make him believe me. "No, I know who you are, and you're a good person." _Sometimes good people had to do bad things for the right reasons._ "What do you know about Ivan Vikhrov? I assume you know him." I found it very difficult to believe someone who'd never met or dealt with Ranger in any way would seek this kind of revenge on him.

Ranger sat very still. "He's from a crime family in Russia, they handle guns, drugs, and stolen military grade weapons they rehome to the highest bidders. I had a run in with them two years ago when they got their hands on anti-aircraft missiles among a few other nasty things. We went in to stop their sale and recover them, there was a firefight and the warehouse with all the weapons went up in flames. Lester took a bullet on that mission and Tank got banged up during our extraction. You don't want anything to do with Ivan Vikhrov babe. _Any_ of the Vikhrovs—they're bad news."

_I couldn't believe Ranger was telling me this, Ranger never told me anything! Wasn't this classified information?_

"You're dead babe, are you going to tell anyone about it?"

I shook my head no and mimed locking my lips and throwing away the key making Ranger's lips twitch. Then I sighed because if he didn't already know this part, he would soon and he wasn't going to like it. "Ivan was the one that put the hit on me and Julie. He sent a few guys after us in Costa Rica; it didn't work out the way the planned. Anton knew they were coming and we were prepared. They got to the house we'd been staying at and we blew it up, while they were still inside. Well, Anton blew it up technically—I thought he was going to just distract them with the explosion or…Hell." I paused taking a deep breath and huffing it out. "I guess I didn't actually think about what we were going to do with the explosives at the time. I was just trying to keep Julie and me alive and I'm really good at not thinking about things when I need to just get through something."

Ranger nodded slowly "Probably payback for losing the 4.8 million dollars and the missiles. I understand he was pretty pissed about that."

I glanced at him before turning my attention back to my hands. "So on Thursday, I'm supposed to get on a plane with Anton—"

"Going where?" Ranger's eyes narrowed.

"Um, Russia. But now I don't know what any of this means," I waved my hands at the folders and papers on the coffee table. "And I don't think I can trust Anton. I have money, and a car and I mean shit _I'm dead_. I have a whole new identity—several, actually. I can just start over somewhere and I don't even know what I'm doing anymore!"

"These names aren't related to Vikhrov or any of their dealings as far as I could tell. Things have changed the last few years since I got intel on them but guns and drugs are covered in Jersey and New York by local families. There's no reason for them to be here. Stephanie, if Ivan put out a contract on your lives then he won't remove it until you _and_ Julie are dead. He's not the type of man to reconsider…what are you going to Russia for exactly?"

We sat in silence. I tried not to fidget. I guess my silence told him something I wasn't ready or didn't know how to say.

"Babe, what do you want?"

I stared at my hands.

"Do you want your old life back?"

I grimaced and slowly shook my head. _The stalkers, the garbage rolling, the exploding cars…no thanks._

"Do you _want _to be with me?"

I couldn't look at him but I felt him shift in his seat. I nodded slowly and Ranger pulled me into his chest wrapping his arms around me so tight the embrace was nearly crushing. "Ranger?"

"_Carlos_, babe. Dios, you scared me."

"What, why?"

"I thought maybe…" he stopped.

"What?" I pressed him. "You thought I didn't want to be with you?"

I felt him nod slowly. "Carlos, I always want to be with you, I've wanted you from the moment we met." I felt him pull in a deep breath.

"Even if this is just another in a long line of people trying to hurt you to get back at me?" The pain was back in his tone again.

"I don't know if you've noticed but the last three years I've done a bang up job of attracting my own line up of potential stalkers and killers. Anyone wanting revenge is just going to have to take a number and get in line with them."

"I noticed, I will do everything I can to keep you safe." I opened my mouth to argue and Ranger squeezed me tighter and continued. "But I won't lock you away, I agree—as much as I don't like to admit it. That's never worked very well at keeping you safe."

"So does that mean you're going to Russia with me?"

"Yes." There wasn't even a split second hesitation. "and I'd like Tank and Bobby and Lester to go as well."

I frowned. "You want to get them involved in this?"

"They were with me the first time, they know the risks—They can refuse if they want to but I know they'll want to go with us. Even if we didn't ask they might show up, and I want more than just the two of us against possibly an entire army."

"What about Anton?"

Ranger growled softly. "What about him?"

"He set all of this up, are you…I mean…will you…uh, can you work with him?" _Are you going to kill him the second he shows up?_

"I'll try not to kill him, but I make no promises." Ranger growled over my head. "When is he supposed to be back?"

"Tomorrow sometime, I don't know when exactly."

"And you won't go back to Rangeman." Ranger was watching me intently.

"No."

"Will you consider getting another hotel?"

I frowned. "What's wrong with this one? Is this some kind of macho thing?"

"Maybe." Ranger admitted.

I sat back pulling away from Ranger's chest to stare at him. "If I move how will he contact me?" I said.

"Babe, he's got a tracker around your neck, and probably a GPS locater on the car downstairs."

My fingers instantly went to the necklace. "He said it wasn't a tracker!"

"Just like the earrings I gave you to wear." Ranger said and I narrowed my eyes at him.

"You put a tracker in my jewelry?"

"Babe if I could get away with it I'd sew a tracker into the lining of your underwear."

I scoffed at him rolling my eyes. "That's just because you want to know I'm wearing it."

Ranger growled and pulled me flush against his chest. "Steph, there are very few things that get to me." I stared at him a little wide eyed feeling his chest rise and fall under my hands. "The thought of you with someone else—_anyone_ else is one of those things. I wasn't kidding when I told you if you belonged to me I'd be _very _upset if you came home missing clothing. I'd go out and track down whoever the bastard was and kill him, inventively, and slowly."

I swallowed under the intense heat in Ranger's eyes my stomach fluttering. "Okie Dokie,"

"I'm being serious Stephanie." _Yow, Ranger was deadly serious. No endearment this time, my full name._ "I won't share you, not with anyone. If Anton has touched you in _any way,_ I will kill him. If he tries to touch you in front me, I'll kill him. If we get home and I find you with Joe doing more than having a friendly chat in plain sight fully clothed on the street I'd be sorely tempted to kill him. I love you Stephanie, but I'm not always a nice man. It's one of the reasons being with you like this scares me so much. I can be…territorial."

_No Shit! At least he wasn't trying to pee on my leg. _I nodded slowly thinking about the way I felt when Julie told me about the drawer and the thong I thought belong to someone else and I could kind of see where he was coming from. _Me_ _territorial over Ranger? Yeah, not exactly a new thing as far as I was concerned._ I'd been jealous and upset over anyone hypothetical or not that I thought might be in Ranger's life for years, even when I'd been with Joe. Very fair of me.

"Okay," I said a little breathlessly, feeling my heart pound in my chest—but I wouldn't say it was from fear. "But just so you know it's a two way street mister," Ranger's brow rose staring at me. It climbed higher watching me poke a finger into his solid chest. "I catch you with anyone else and I'm not going to be filing for divorce like I did with the Dick!" I threatened. I wasn't ready to say I would kill anyone—but the thought of Ranger with his hands on anyone else did make me see enough red that I'd probably consider it. Maybe I wouldn't kill him or Jeannie but I could burn the building down, I was very good at that. Hell I could probably blow up all the cars at Haywood and make it look like just another 'Bombshell Accident'.

Ranger grinned suddenly. "Babe, there's never been anything between me and Jeannie, but I have to admit I'm a little turned on at the idea of you turning to arson in jealousy..." Ranger was leaning closer to me as he was speaking, his hands drifting lower to cup my ass. I gasped feeling him. Ranger was more than a little turned on, if you know what I mean. His voice against the shell of my ear a split second later had me shivering. "You said Divorce babe, is that a yes to marrying me?"

"maybe, now shut up—" I mumbled against his lips twisting my fingers in his hair to hold him near me, "—and kiss me." Ranger's mouth sealed to mine and his hands on my hips turned me so I was straddling him in against the seat cushions similar to our positions earlier in the car.

I pulled back from his kiss a few moments later. "Bedroom," I whispered and Ranger nodded and helped me stand up before returning my mouth to his. He walked us backwards and sideways in a corkscrew weaving dance shedding clothing the entire way to the bedroom his gun held in one hand until he could deposit it on my nightstand. His eyes moved over my body when I was standing in front of him once again naked and I returned the gesture more than enjoying the view.

Every part of Ranger is perfect, always has been. He's tanned, muscled tall and big _everywhere_. _Especially where it counts_. I wrapped my hand around him and Ranger grabbed my wrist.

"Babe No," his voice sounded strained.

"No?"

Ranger pushed me down to the mattress. "I have plans for that later, but first I want to do this." I didn't get a chance to ask him _what_ because Ranger went straight to demonstrating exactly what he meant by climbing onto the bed next to me and pinning me with one arm and another searing hot kiss. His mouth left mine after a minute to trailed down my neck, licking and nipping there briefly before moving further down to my chest.

My breath hummed out in pleasure and my thighs jump knees bending to press my heels to the bed feeling the heat of his mouth enclose my right breast while he flicks the tip of his artful tongue over its sensitive peaked tip, sucking hard and making my back arch off the bed. He turns his attention to the other side, slowly working his way from one to the other with little nibbles and hot wet kisses slow enough to drive me mad gasping and squirming. His fingers trailing down my abdomen cupping me but not doing anything else for a moment before moving on, tracing his palms over more of my skin.

By the time Ranger closed his mouth over my other breast I was practically leaping off the bed, the desire to feel his mouth on other things making me crazy. I twisted my fingers in his thick hair desperate to direct him, steer him toward where I needed to feel him.

"Tell me what you want babe,"

A startled gasp escaped me feeling Ranger's mouth move over the sensitive flesh of my ribs down to my belly. I wanted to touch him, I wanted him to move lower and taste me, I wanted to scream his name with him buried inside me.

"Soon," Ranger said and somebody growled, and I think it might have been me. Ranger's breath puffed out hot and distracting against my navel in obvious amusement and I felt the tiniest wriggle of irritation and then his mouth slide lower and my back arched rolling my hips towards him. Hot, wet heat from Ranger's mouth was driving me half-insane with need, hovering just above where I needed him to be to touch me. I forgot my frustration feeling his tongue swirl over smooth skin the spa had just waxed for me and I started to tremble, begging him to touch me lower, taste me. I'm physically shaking in anticipation. But Ranger apparently has decided to do things his way, driving me completely crazy.

He completely skipped over the throbbing flesh so obviously begging for his attention and instead set to trailing a path of kisses down one of my hips before continuing with his mouth down one leg all the way to my knee, soft kisses pressed to the inside of tender flesh I never knew was so sensitive leaving me gasping and writhing as he touches one side and then shifts to return the same attentions to the other.

Ranger's hands drag my attention for the slow crawl of his mouth, as they slide up over my thighs, skirting my bare hips and tracing the crease where my leg meets body making me twitch. My back arches clear off the mattress beneath me, some desperate sound I don't recognize escapes me and I clamp my eyes shut, panting, my pelvis thrusting subconsciously toward Ranger's hovering mouth and conspicuously absent hands. He's driving me crazy, not touching me. I can feel his breath hot against my skin—so close but not on me. My whole body is tingling, flushed from head to toe with need.

"Carlos, _Please_…"

My shoulders buck off the bed fingers clutching reflexively in the sheets, fisting them in to tight knots. Biting my lip to try to stop the throaty groan from escaping as he continues to torture me, knowing instinctively he'll only move where I want him so badly when he's done exploring the rest of me. I shiver and tremble and curse fisting my hands in his hair trying to steer him there, and finally he relents, and ducks between my thighs. I tremble and buck unabashedly against his mouth on a sob as he parts me with his tongue, tastes me with one quick flick of molten heat against my core.

Ranger moaned my name against my skin as I let my fingers bury themselves further in his thick hair, digging my heels into the mattress to push myself closer to his face. His arm snakes around my lower back, tilting me further so his mouth can devour my gathered heat, all the while making noises in his throat like I'm the most delicious thing he's ever tasted driving me over the brink of pleasure so hard and fast I can't breathe.

_Holy. Sweet. Jesus._ I'm coming apart at the seams if feels like and still he doesn't stop torturing me. It doesn't take long under that talent tongue before I'm shattering again. I twist, shudder and writhe under the intense wet heat of Ranger's mouth claiming every inch of me. He growls against my lips, his tongue tracing me before his fingers join in. He parts me with one long digit while I quake beneath his ministrations gasping and pleading racked with aftershocks still so intense I can't think. Every part of my body trembling and shaking with need, lust drunk nerve endings in my body begging for more of _everything_.

A second finger joins the first thrusting and scissoring inside me before curling perfectly to hit just the right spot, sending sparks flying again inside me spiraling out through my veins. Ranger withdraws his fingers slowly before plunging into me again, his tongue circling the hyper-aware pearl of nerves at my junction making me squirm and another sweet rush of heat flood through me around his fingers. He closed his mouth over me in the next second, flicking me with the tip of his tongue making me jump before sucking hard while my hips buck off the bed and then I feel his teeth scrap over me and two fingers becomes three and the friction…the wash of pleasure and pain and _Omigod, _I'm flying, falling; so intense part of me tries to crawl up the bed to escape it.

I twist beneath him, against him, cry out in shock as heat blooms up my whole spine. I forget how to breathe as wave after wave of pleasure blisters my nerves to almost the point of pain. While he continues branding his name into my body with his hungry mouth, growling my name; teeth scraping over sensitive skin just as I'm coming back down and sending me up again, and up again.

I flop back against the mattress feeling liquid and floaty when the sensations finally fade. Ranger taking his time crawling back up my body pausing to press kisses here, and there, making my body jump and twitch in particularly sensitive or ticklish places. When he's leaned completely over me I reach down and take him in my hand hearing his breath catch when I slide my palm over his skin. He's starts breathing again, quick ragged breaths as I continue to touch him, his hands pressed to the mattress beside my head for support, his arms start to shake under the strain of pleasure holding himself posed above me.

"Lay down," I tell him, still mildly surprised when he moves from above me and does exactly that without hesitation. I sit up and lean forward over him taking him in both hands, run my tongue over the silky soft skin covering him. Up one side of his length while he curses, then the down the other; moving my hands out of my way as run my tongue over his tip. I pull him into my mouth, adding suction to just the tip while my hand slides down his shaft to his thick base. Ranger utters a string of curses and praise in a mix of languages over my head. I take that as encouragement to increase the pressure of my mouth, working my hands over him as he hardens to the point of silk coated granite under my tongue.

I swirl my tongue over his tip tasting the drop of salty liquid I've pulled from him as I withdraw almost pulling him from my mouth, before sliding back over him. I hollow my cheeks pulling back before sliding down his length keeping the suction the same taking him back as far as I can, his hips jerk forward in reaction. My eyes water and my throat seizes in a gag and I jerk back coughing.

"Fuck Babe. I'm sorry! I can't control myself when you do that, stop…just stop…" He's shaking his head above me, his hand tighten on my shoulders; fingertips digging almost painfully into my skin fighting to restrain himself. I frown, clear my throat ignoring his protest and try again pulling a ragged exhale and several harsh surprised curses from his lips. This time I move slower. Sliding my hand in front of my lips so that when his hips jerk in reaction, I'm not caught by surprise and I don't gag as he hits the back of my throat. I swallow a few times, breathing slowly, to relax around him working my hand down the rest of his length while he curses and swears under his breath, muscles shaking trying not to move.

When I slide him deeper this time I'm more successful. It's still a bit too much, he's so much bigger then Joe and I never even attempted this with him. After a few more strokes I have to pull back some, my eyes watering once again. I can't take all of him this way, but I'm far from discouraged. Judging by the array of sounds Rangers making, the way his arms are crossed over his face hands clenched in white knuckled fists as he shakes and groans and curses and growls his favorite endearment of my name; I think he likes it. Before I can experiment further with my explorations Ranger is hauling me up from my position and flipping us, covering my body with his. His mouth tackles mine just like his body did, kissing me absolutely senseless.

"I love the way I taste on your lips." He tells me voice husky with lust, his eyes dark as night parting my thighs with one of his. Ranger's teeth slide over my earlobe stinging just enough to make the fluttering heat in my belly twitch. His breath is hot against my skin, his chest pressed flush to mine as he rolls his hips into me; grinds against me with the most delicious fucking pressure, he's so close, but not entering me. A spiraling weightless sensation has started up in my head, it's like falling, and flying somehow sweeter than the pleasure of my previous release and I want to wrap myself up in it and never let it end.

I grind myself against his next thrust, magnifying the sensation spiraling through me as the action hits my clit perfectly. I groan and buck, hiss his name out between clenched teeth while his hands shift to my hips gripping me tightly. Then he's jerking my body up, tilting my hips into his and driving himself forward and into me with each jagged thrust of his hips so deep it feels like he's buried all the way to my chest. He stills inside me, breathing ragged and too fast and I can feel the muscles of his abdomen jump and twitch, shaking against my own where he's pressed flush to every square inch of my body.

When he moves inside me finally, every withdrawal seems designed to drive me crazy slowly pulling back almost completely leaving me with just an agonizing ache of need torturing me in his wake making me clench and gasp desperately tightening my fingers against his back trying to bring him back to me. My breath catches in my throat on a whimper feeling him rushing back into me, banish the sensation of emptiness with a rush of searing pleasure that blisters out through my center, spiraling tight and hot and orgasmic through my entire body as he fills me. Every increasingly frantic thrust of his body presses my body further into the bed making my head spin and the crazy overwhelming molten heat swirling through my belly spread out through my veins. I moan staring blindly at the ceiling over our heads, bite my lip while it builds in my core; expands and tightens making it hard to breathe. A few more thrusts, a grind of his hips at just the right angle and I'm _so close…_

Fireworks light up my spine set fire to every nerve; burning through me sweet and overwhelming and so intense it's all I can do to not scream. I roll my hips up to his, tremble and gasp and wrap my arms tighter around his back burying my face against his neck breathing him in while my whole body seizes in an intense rush of mind splintering sensation. It floods every nerve flashing like chain lightening down my spine and up again, locking my muscles around him, pulling him deeper…closer to his own edge.

A strangled wordless cry somehow makes it past my lips as I seize impossibly tight around his next deep thrust, and Ranger's gasping and shuddering and grinding down against me perfectly and I orgasm so hard as Ranger fills me with his seed that colored spots dance in front of my eyes and I black out for a bit.

When I find my way back to him Ranger is pressing gentle kisses against my temple and smoothing my hair back from my face whispering how much he loves me. I keep my eyes closed and turn my face into his neck tightening my arms around him and groan in protest feeling him slide out of me. Rangers arms tighten around me as he shifts his body, turning us both so we're lying chest to chest; my head tucked against his neck, ear to his chest listening to his metrical heartbeat. His skin is warm everywhere it's pressed against me, his steady breathing is regular and soothing and I start to feel very heavy in just a few brief minutes of lying next to him. Before I know it comforting darkness is pulling me under again, lulling me to sleep before I can focus on our lack of birth control again.

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**TBC...**


	38. Chapter 38

**Disclaimer:** Not mine

Okay, Anton vs. Ranger is in the next chapter, turns out I haven't just been sick this past week; I've got the 9 month flu...yeah. Explains why I've been feeling like absolute crap for almost two weeks! Yow! O_o I'm hella sick everyday so writing has been very slow, stay patient with me peeps I'm trying to get this done! :)

Thank you to everyone who reads reviews and enjoys this story, I hope you continue to enjoy it! This is also an M bit before we get really serious again! I figured that R/S needed a bit more down time before the shit hits the fan and things go crazy once more! (plus it's just so much fun to write!)

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**Chapter Thirty-Eight**

I woke sometime much later that night to Ranger's enveloping heat against my back, his arms wound tight around me. I lay still for a few disoriented moments blinking into the darkness uncertain if I'm truly awake and this is real, or if I'm only dreaming. After a few sleep muddled moments I start to remember the previous day and I'm left wondering what exactly woke me from sleep.

The bedside clock is glowing 1:31 am, we've been asleep for several hours. I laid still for a while just listening to the sounds of the suite, but everything is quiet until Ranger's sleep slurred voice mumbles something against the back of my neck.

I start to twist and his arms tighten around my waist I feel him move behind me, shifting his hips in his sleep so there's no space between us, he mumbles again. It's my name. When he moves against me again his erection is hard and full begging for attention. I feel it throb and twitch against the smooth skin of my lower back trapped between us. Heat rushes through my veins in response and my insides flutter with an answering heat as a throbbing ache starts in my belly following another rush of spiraling desire to touch him again though it's only been a few hours since we both fell asleep.

I wiggle farther back against him, wondering how much it will take to wake him up—and questioning whether he's really asleep. Ranger rolls his hips against me when I rub my ass against his length. His lips begin moving over my shoulder, hot open mouthed kisses raising my temperature, driving me to burn making me gasp and shiver grinding against his length drawing a heavy groan of "Babe," from him. Guess that answers my question.

I squirm against him squeezing my thighs trying to find the friction I need to appease the ache until Ranger pushes one heavily muscled leg between mine, drawing his knee higher to part my thighs. He shifts against me still torturing the sensitive skin of my neck after shifting my hair to one side with a brush of his hand. His fingers trail down my abdomen drawing lazy circles with his hand. The heavy weight of him against my skin so close to where I need him to be, he's driving me half-mad. Denying me the delicious friction I know he can provide like no one else can. I need him inside me. His fingers, his tongue, his cock—anything; before I scream.

My belly flutters and twitches every time he moves against me; closer and closer but denying me still. Need burns up my spine, ignites my nerves and hums through my veins until my toes curl in anticipation and my fingers tingle clenching to tight fists in the sheets still gathered at my waist.

I twist my head to press my face to the pillow breath coming in frantic pants that sound like a chant of his name and a begging please when his hand drops down my abdomen finally to press just above junction of my legs where I burn. I'm tingling and spasming every thought, every nerve in my body focused on two roughly calloused fingertips and the most perfect friction and pressure he's creating.

Ranger draws his thigh higher parting me further to his exploration and he shifts closer drawing lazy circles against my belly with one hand while he tests the growing wetness between my legs with his other.

"Dios babe, always so wet for me..." His voice is a throaty sleep roughened whisper that slides down my spine and sends more heat flooding to my belly.

I jerk against his hand as one finger parts me and then cursing gasp tilting my hips into his touch body begging, shaking for more when he adds another. He rubs his erection against my ass rolling his hips against me as he circles me entrance once more with teasing digits. I buck and curse as his hand slips farther back tracing the length of me slipping over my wet skin as easy as silk on silk. He groans approval against my neck gasping my name and gods when his fingers encounter the throbbing wet invitation of my body clenching and tightening desperately around him as he tests me again.

I'm begging, pleading and I don't care if that's embarrassing, I need him. I need him _now_ and he's not cooperating! I jerk twisting against him, cursing when his arm tightens. His forearm locking around my waist in an iron grip holding me against him, helpless. I groan in frustration, then curse and hiss moaning his name feeling his fingers slide deeper; curling against my walls hitting the perfect spot while I shudder and clench tight against his invasion so close to release its staggering.

His breath is hot against my skin, ragged open mouthed pants while he fights his own body for control, face pressed tight to my shoulder blade at my back cursing feeling my muscles lock around his fingers asking for more friction; pulling him deeper under my skin. His cock leaps against my back in response making me tremble from head to toe. I reach behind me with a free hand; seeking his length so I can torture him the same way he's torturing me. I close my fingers around him as much as I can and Ranger grunts harshly against my neck before nipping at me.

His breathing grows even more harsh—his arm tightens around my waist thigh shifting me, parting my legs. His arm grips my thigh just above my knee and pulls my leg up towards his chest. I feel my spine arch towards him, biting my lip. This position reminds me of porn and feels very naughty. I would never have done something like this with Joe, I don't think even after three years I trusted him like this. With my body open, and Ranger against my back where I can't see him I have to fight a nervous rush of lust feeling extraordinarily exposed. I feel heat crawl up my neck and bloom across my cheeks even in the darkness, my heart flutters in my chest apprehensively yet I can't pull away, don't want too…the sensation of being displayed to Ranger like this is so intimate, so private it makes me feel even hotter, clenches intoxicatingly in my womb, pleasure flutters under my superheated skin sending warm tingles to dance and spiral out through my limbs all the way to my toes.

I gasp turning my face down to the pillow feel his thick head slide against me from behind. I groan feeling him mummer a mixture of languages against my neck as he coats himself with the desire spilling from me and gathered at my folds, glazing the top of my thighs so he glides against me like silk. When he's as slick as my sex and we're both shaking with need he rubs against me with his full length once more driving me crazy with friction before shifting to hold my raised leg with his elbow and ordering me in the huskiest voice I've ever heard him use to take a hold of him. I bend forward wrapping my fingers around him between my own legs and pumping my palm over him spreading my heat along his skin with a tight fist while Ranger curses and his pelvis leaps forward thrusting roughly into my hand as he growls against my neck.

My body responds with another wave of trembles in anticipation of feeling him inside me again. I don't think I've ever been this wet; this ready and desperate with need, my whole body aches I'm so ready for him, desperate to feel him slide inside of me, taking me over the edge. His continued absence; the emptiness inside me is damn near painful it's so intense.

I shift again so I can press his throbbing head slick with lust to the right spot and Ranger grunts against the back of my neck his fingers tightening and _Omigod_! My whole body reacts to his first thrust as he buries himself deep inside my spasming heat with a burning pleasure so sharp and tight the first orgasm hits me like a sledge hammer.

My spine arches and my fingers lock white knuckled in the hopelessly twisted sheets. My hips rock farther back in a blind rhythm against his body desperate to driving him deeper, my walls locking impossibly tight around his cock in a velvet fist of perfect heat and friction driving us both toward madness.

I'm trying to ground myself with the fire burning through my core—the hard throbbing pressure of him stretching my walls, it's all friction and heat and pleasure; white hot, and colored lights and my body screaming _more, more, more_ even as almost unbearable pleasure ripples out from my core explode behind my eyes and along every nerve with each surge of his hips pounding his body into mine.

I groan his name writhing; thrashing helplessly lost in the sensations searing through me with each almost brutal upwards twist of his hips. I release the sheets with one hand grasping one of his where he's holding me captive; I lace my fingers through his encouraging him to squeeze even tighter where his arm is wrapped tightly around my waist holding me to him. Everything about his touch at this moment feels wickedly sinful, right on the edge of losing control and so hot; I need more.

His tight grip pulls my body back into each welcome invasion of his hard length, claiming me with each drive of his hips into my waiting liquid heat. I shudder, thrash again barely able to whimper his name digging my fingers into his wrist locking him to me when I feel the threat of spiraling away growing very near as another orgasm builds in my belly riding the barely receded aftershocks of my first.

Ranger's voice is a desperate growl against my ear making me shiver. "Too much babe?" He slows for a moment, gentling his touch and I groan shoving my hips back against him in desperation, shaking my head; eyes clenched tight frantic to feel more.

"More, Carlos, god…harder." I barely recognize the croaking plea as my own voice, the vixen that's taken up residence under my skin making me gasp and rock back almost violently against him feeling something primal building in my chest so intense it almost frightens me even while I beg him to fuck me.

He likes that, curses telling me he's going to do just that, and that I'm going to beg him for it in such a rough growl that has me shuddering and nodding desperately, reaching back to tangle my fingers in his thick silky hair pleading in a voice I don't recognize and then his arm is around my waist once more bruising tight; yanking me back roughly; pinning me flush to his chest, heated skin to skin. His hand slips over my breast, nimble talented fingers teasing over my already pebbled nipples with slightly rough twists. His touch sending more heat crashing through me, zipping down my spine straight to the firestorm tightening around him in my abdomen.

I'm gasping and moaning and begging him to make it _faster, harder_… because I can feel it, so close I can almost taste it, Ranger driving into me so deep I can practically feel him all the way in my throat and _God it's not enough, it's too much _I'm going to shatter into a million pieces with pleasure so intense it almost hurts.

Ranger twists his hips and drops his hand to flick my clit roughly and I scream as I convulse around his next thrust. There's nothing but white noise in my ears and pleasure slamming through me with each damn near violent twist of his hips. Ranger's ragged breathing against my neck now punctuated by a wild animalistic snarl that ends with his body plunging so deep it's like he's trying to touch the bottom of my heart with each plunge of his hips. If he were any deeper, I think we might fuse together and never come apart. His teeth find their way to the hollow of sensitive skin where shoulder meets neck and his tongue circles over my pulse almost sending me shattering all over again and then he bites hard enough to leave a mark and flicks his fingers roughly over me again and this time when I come it's with a keening sob that has me damn near blacking out it's so intense.

My consciousness flies apart in the darkness; my walls locking and clenching over him seizing around his still thrusting cock even as I skirt the edge of darkness. Ranger groans, curses, his forehead pressed to my shoulder feeling me tightening and seizing around him; the waves of my release pulling a low possessive growl of my name from his lips. And then Ranger shouts wordlessly in pleasure against the back of my neck and I shudder hard feeling molten heat spurt inside me as he fills me with a few more rough sporadic jerks of his hips.

I buck and twist whimper his name trying to remember how to breathe around the onslaught of sensation pulling me down; shattering me in a million directions, a billion nerves and sparks focused on driving me out of my mind scattering my thoughts to the wind and then there's darkness.

When I find myself again I'm facing him, wrapped in Ranger's arms, my fluttering heartbeat still erratic in my ears telling me I can't have been out that long,. I relax against him cradled safely against his chest with his left hand is drawing mindless patterns against my lower back. The sheet is pulled half over us warding off the cool air of the room from the damp sweat coating our skin. Little aftershocks flutter and twitch beneath my skin. Ranger's heartbeat is steady and reassuring under my ear and I close my eyes and drift away again.

When I awake again my skin is no longer sweaty, and somehow in sleep one of my legs gotten thrown over Ranger's hip. My nipples are puckered tight tingling with sensation, and Ranger's long fingers have moved down from my lower back to cup my ass before dipping between my cheeks to trace over my entrance. He groans approval against the crook of my neck finding me wet. I moan into his chest and Ranger tilts my chin up to face him and kisses me slow and soft at first before adding more demand to it.

He twists pressing me onto my back and my thighs part instantly for him on instinct as he rises over me. I squirm, trying to wiggle myself closer even as he's aligning himself with one hand, my stomach fluttering with a slow lazy heat feeling his cock brush my folds. My insides quiver as he presses into me slowly taking me inch by inch in reverence to the mild soreness cause by our frequent lovemaking before drawing slowly back again.

Heat trickles up my spine, my breasts ache, my nipples hypersensitive from all the earlier attention and my clit throbs from his previous ministrations adding to the flush already coloring my skin as Ranger presses forward driving deep in one single agonizingly slow hard thrust.

I arch, sob feeling him buried so deep, dig my nails into his shoulders clinging to him positive I'm leaving marks; and uncaring because in four slow languid thrusts I'm riding the first soft wave of release, growing stronger and faster until they spiral out through me trembling and aching to overtake every nerve in my body; I feel my channel locking around him with another flush of wet heat and need and I can't breathe, can't even remember my own name…or when it's ever been this blissfully sweet and passionate…

I'm helpless against it, there's just sensation. And even that defies logic; the intensity of my release overwhelms me in counterpoint to the languid slowness of Ranger's thrusting inside me, the gently glide of his hands up my sides to cup my breasts gently before framing my face and pulling my lips to his.

I wrap my legs around his hips and just ride it out, letting my eye slip shut feeling it build one more time around his thrusts. It starts low in my belly, has me biting my lip to hold in the sob of his name that rises with it because this man is a _God_… I'm going to die right here bursting into flames.

"Babe, Mírame, _look at me."_ Ranger's voice is dark and lust inducing, I can barely make out the midnight black of his eyes in the small amount of moonlight from the windows the dark shadows cast across his face sharpening the angle of his strong jaw and masculine brow line. The dark curtain of silky black hair hangs loose around his face deepening the shadows dancing around his face. I raise my hand to run my fingers through his hair catching the soft strands between my fingertips, loving the weight and feel of it slipping through my hand.

His movements are purposeful and controlled, each thrust of his hips an achingly torturous piston of his hips, powerful enough to bury him to the hilt but slow enough to let me feel every blissful inch of him on the journey. He adds a tight circling motion to his thrusts, grinding down into me now; changing the pressure; no less pleasurable; somehow infinitely more sweet. The pressure building inside me has become a breathless sigh pouring through my chest, a delicate twinge in my belly, a tender ache humming beneath my skin still building under his dark lust filled eyes.

"Tell me you love me babe, I need to hear it."

_Oh God._ My hips roll unconsciously against his next thrust, insides clenching and locking down around his cock in instant response to the heated desire in his husky request. I have to bite my lip between my teeth to stifle the moan feeling and hearing Ranger's dark growl at my reaction. Those impossibly dark liquid black eyes slide shut hiding his gaze from me and then he's driving into me harder and deeper in reaction inspiring my body to tightening even further around him like a velvet fist. The gentle hum of desire becomes a whirling storm under my skin once again building toward the abyss.

I gasp in response, back arching clear off the bed driving him deeper inside me. I bite my lip at the sensations still building, swirling impossibly tight inside me; not just around him—but deep inside my chest overlapping my racing heart. "I love you Carlos."

Ranger groans at my words his face dropping to bury itself against my neck. "Say it again." He commands. Every part of him trembles when I whisper it to him again in the dark this close, this quiet, all the weight of the world pressed into those simple words. The tension rolls through him, muscles locking around me, against me. I recognize instantly his climax deep inside me the gasping whimpered sigh it pulls from his lips as molten heat fills me with his release, pushes me over the edge once more to join him. And I'm torn between knowing whether it's the way his teeth nip at my earlobe with a minor sting, before his mouth closes over the same spot sucking the sting away or if it's Ranger's gentle reverent whisper against my skin that push me into the center of the storm one last time with him.

_"__Stephanie, babe—I love you too. Te amo babe. Dios, I love you."_

I sigh against his chest waves of pleasure rippling out from my center, hand clasped tight around his back as he says it again, presses the words to my ear, unmistakable even with his low guttural whisper while he's still rocking against me; buried inside me so deep he's got to be piercing my womb, every nerve in my body centered on feeling my release spasm and tighten milking every last pleasurable wave of his release pulling him deeper inside me still because even my body cresting on a wave of climax can't get enough of him. I will _never_ get enough of him.

When we can move again and my frantic heartbeat has slowed from racing Ranger pulls his body from mine ignoring my moan of protest at the loss of his body inside me. He turns me in his arms to lay with my back cradled to his chest wrapped once more in the shelter of his arms and we sleep.

Twice more in the night I'm awoken by his gentle attentions as Ranger fondles my breast and gently palms my mound slipping his fingers through my wetness before sliding once more deep inside me. Each time he makes love to me it's slower and gentler then before. The last round just as the world outside is turning soft grey with dawn and the sounds of traffic on 5th avenue are blending to very muffled hum left me with hot tears spilling down my cheeks as Ranger begged me to marry him while he was moving inside me and I said yes to him over and over again against his lips while he kissed me. He pulled back feeling my tears and alternately licked them from my skin and wiped them away with gentle sweeping caresses from his thumbs cupping my face begging me not to cry because he loved me.

His movements over me, inside of me remained infinitely gentle and slow for what felt like hours, days even, everything about his touch so loving and worshipful it was almost too much. Ranger's reverent husky voice whispering over and over against my ear as he moved inside of me the last time as daylight slowly found us he continued professing his love, before calling my name in a hoarse scratchy voice as he climaxed inside me once again filling me with his branding heat, claiming me once more without a condom with a rush so intense it made my heart clench in my chest and my own climax so fierce it was actually painful. Ranger pulled himself from bed to close the heavy curtains over the windows before returning to bed and dragging me back against his chest. He kissed me slowly, with more passion then I think I've ever felt and asked me to marry him again hugging me tighter to his chest when I told him yes and then we slept exhausted and draped in one another's arms until much later in the day.

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TBC...


	39. Chapter 39

**Disclaimer: ** Not my characters, well, most of them aren't. I created the Alpha male that is Antoni Trevino, or Anton, though honestly he's more trouble most days then he's worth! ; ) I make no money form this insanity, it's just flexing my creative muscle and wasting nap time!

**Notes: ** Chapter 39! Apologies that these are not coming out as fast as they did before, daily updates might be a bit much for me for a while! Yes I'm very happy to have the nine month flu, though it's not without it's complications! I'm fighting all-day sickness just like I did with my son and am very tired, especially since I can't have a pot of coffee anymore! Yikes. A lot of my 'feeling good' time is being spent with my 22 month old who doesn't understand why mommy doesn't want to play with him 24/7 anymore, so bear with me if it takes a bit longer to get these chapters out!

I'm still trying to write while he naps, but a few days I've ended up sleeping myself so I can recharge my own batteries! Any prayers or crossed fingers are greatly appreciated not just for this story but for me as well we lost twins at four months a little more then a year before we got pregnant with my son so I'm taking it easy and hoping for no complications!

**Thank you's! **_**To everyone who's reading, PMing, Reviewing and enjoying this story! I've always dreamed since I was a little girl of being a published writer and when I see how many people are enjoying what I write and taking the time to respond it makes me feel like that dream might one day be a reality! Thank you, Thank you! (A million times, seriously, Thank you!)**_

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**Chapter Thirty-Nine**

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When I finally woke up enough to realize I needed to answer natures call and dragged myself up from a seriously rumpled bed the bedside clock's little green digits said 12:39 pm and my stomach was growling in protest loud enough to be heard in the downstairs lobby. I glanced at Ranger still somehow sound asleep on the bed and fought the urge to reach over and poke him with one hand—the man usually woke to the slightest sound. I could see his deep even breathing, so he wasn't dead it was just, odd. A butterfly flapping its wings in China could usually rouse him normally. Right now he was dead to the world. _Holy Shit, I put Ranger in a sex coma!_ The idea put a ridiculously stupid grin on my face.

I stood up slowly using the edge of the bed for support seeing as my legs felt more than a little untrustworthy and wobbly. I made my way slowly to the in suite bathroom to take care of business, then I washed my hands and splashed some lukewarm water on my face trying to force myself to wake up the rest of the way to function like a normal human being. I wanted to get in the shower but I really needed to deal with the snarl that was my hair first. I ended up spritzing detangler and running a combination of comb and fingers through the wild tangle that had become my head from so much rolling around with Ranger in the middle of the night. My post-sex-hair, even without the addition of spazzed out curls was a little frightening. Scratch that, it was downright bride of Frankenstein scary! Good thing Ranger was still asleep, if he saw me looking like this he might rethink some of the declarations he'd made in the last 24 hours..eep.

When I'd finally tamed the hair into something less than a matted snarl belonging to a cavewoman Ranger was knocking softly on the bathroom door and I timidly told him to come in, glad it was darker in the bathroom then in the bedroom so maybe I could hide the sudden blush on my cheeks at seeing him. I was suddenly wishing I'd grabbed my robe or at least a t-shirt to cover myself with, which was a more than a little ridiculous considering everything we'd done last night and yesterday…and this morning. The bathroom light was pretty muted but I was pretty certain I was sporting quite a few love marks from neck to thigh I felt my cheeks heat blushing again.

Then I completely forgot to be embarrassed about anything because my brain promptly short circuited when the door opened and I just kind of stood there gawking at him. Turns out it _wasn't_ that dark in here, and _Naked Ranger _was _very happy _to see me this morning._Naked Ranger also had a few marks of his own, Omigod!__I left Hickes on Batman!__I bit back a giggle and Ranger's eyes darkened and _as sore as I was after our sex-marathon I was suddenly tempted to go another round.

"Babe, you're staring at me."

I blushed harder and turned away grabbing a clip to pull my hair back away from my face. Ranger crossed the tile floor silently to stand behind me making the back of my neck tingle and my skin hum at his close proximity, he brushed the hair I was trying to gather at the back of my head in the clip over one of my shoulders so he could kiss the back of my neck just over my spine. I shivered at his touch and then bit my lip feeling his erection brush suggestively against my back.

Then the monster that lives in my abdomen and most people call a stomach decided to make its presence known. Ranger grinned at me in the mirror. "Why don't you order room service amante. I'm not sure I'm ready to risk taking you out in public when I could stay here and keep you all to myself…" The last part sort of dropped into a growl that had my cheeks flushing and my heart flipping weightlessly in my chest. And then my stomach growled again and I was instantly reminded that I hadn't eaten anything in hours, and we'd burned a lot of calories last night!

I groaned and disentangled myself from Ranger's arms before his mouth could distract me further and backed out of the bathroom his eyes watching me with darkened lust the entire time. Probably for the best I wasn't sure I'd survive another round without food, and I was already questioning whether I owned enough clothes to cover the marks he'd already left on my skin without adding to them!

I heard the shower kick on as I grabbed my robe off one of the wingback chairs in the bedroom and made my way out to the suite's living area to make the call for breakfast…well, lunch I guess.

The ubber polite lady on the phone told me it would be thirty minutes before my order would be delivered to our room, and I did need a shower. The water was still running in the other room. I tried to sneak into the bathroom without Ranger hearing me until I opened the shower door but I'm pretty sure he knew the moment I was there since he grabbed me hauling me inside under the hot spray and proceeded to kiss me stupid the second I had the shower door open. We got soaped up and rinsed off and I did the hair and face scrub thing while Ranger decided to re-soap my body just in case I'd missed any spots. Apparently he didn't think I'd gotten my chest clean enough on my own and wanted to be thorough—really, really thorough. I was feeling a little breathless and tingly all over when we finally stepped out of the shower and we started to dry off—thankfully on our own since I was certain if Ranger's hands stayed on me any longer I'd probably climb him like a tree and have my way with him right here in the bathroom sore muscles and room service be damned.

Ranger was saved from that fate though since we kept our hands to ourselves and once I was mostly dry I wrapped myself in a towel and headed to get dressed in the closet. I was pulling on a pair of yoga pants and a camisole over my matching pantie set when I noticed Ranger bending to grab another pair of Anton's work out pants—naked. Apparently batman decided he no longer needed a towel and left it in the bathroom. I tried to swallow but my mouth was feeling a little dry suddenly. _My God that man has the most perfect ass on the planet!_

Ranger let out a bark of laughter and grinned at me pulling a tee shirt over his head. "I'm glad you like it babe, personally your ass is my favorite." He emphasized the words by smacking me on the ass before leaving the closet while I just stood there gaping and blushing. I guess I said that out loud…and since when does Batman tease and slap people on the butt?! I had the distinct feeling that all the years I'd known Ranger I'd learned more about him in the last 24 hours then I had in three years! I caught sight of the hickie on my neck in the mirror again. Color me intrigued, I couldn't wait to learn _everything_ I could about him.

They say you shouldn't go grocery shopping when you're hungry, well there's probably a similar saying about ordering room service while famished—and if there isn't there damn well should be. I was so hungry when I'd picked up the phone it felt like my stomach was starting to digest my backbone, and now looking at the tray the hotel employee rolled through the door or the suite, and the second one I realized I may have gone a little overboard. Ranger raised an eyebrow at the amount of food on the carts but didn't say anything—_smart man_.

I lifted a few lid covers setting them to the side and made myself a plate and Ranger did the same before setting the covers back over the dishes I'd opened and moving to sit next to me at the table, close enough that our legs were touching. We ate in relative silence for a few minutes—mostly because Ranger is always quiet when he eats and I was too busy tasting everything! It was all so good it was almost like having my very own Ella to cook whatever I wanted, only this Ella made Bacon, and cheese and ham and Danishes and hollandaise sauce! Ranger stuck with the healthiest options I'd ordered, I did think of him when I ordered breakfast; there was fruit and bagels with lox, salmon on these little toasted whole grain cracker slices with tomatoes with garlic and tiny fragrant chopped bright green onions. It was all delicious and I wasn't sure I could move halfway through my second plate.

I'd just leaned back in my seat to push away from my plate so I wouldn't eat myself sick reminding myself that I could always put the left overs in the full size fridge in the kitchen and we could reheat it in the oven or microwave for lunch that was in my wheel house for cooking, I could figure that out, when Ranger froze reaching for his juice. I realized the sound I was hearing was the lock on the door to the suite beeping as someone swiped a room card through the lock and the door handle clicked as it started to turn.

Ranger was on his feet, a gun from somewhere already in his hands before the door was even halfway open. I jerked to my feet knocking the chair I'd been sitting in crashing to the floor behind me. The loud bang as it collapsed back had Anton rushing through the doorway his bag dropped in the open doorway keeping the door to the suite from closing around it, gun in hand.

There was a blur of motion as they both moved towards each other, it was like trying to track to lightning bolts on a crash course. The slammed into each other like thunder, snarling as they crashed back into the wall, both managed to knock the guns out of each other's hands in two heartbeats one crashed into the wall near the sofa as it went sailing away and the other crashed to the floor of the kitchen with a metallic clang sliding against the marble floor to rest somewhere near the kitchen sink.

I wanted to grab the guns before one of them could shoot the other, but I was momentarily stunned to the point of immobility, there was a flurry of moves so fast I couldn't track them with my eyes before Anton and Ranger were grappling, locked in a deadly stance for about ten seconds muscle fighting muscles before Ranger flipped Anton up and over his head slamming him down onto his back in something that looked vaguely like a wrestling move on that show Grandma Muzar likes to watch. But Anton didn't stay down for longer than a split second. Ranger went flying a millisecond later crashing into the three bar stools near the kitchen bar breaking the legs off two of them and turning them into expensive kindling while Anton took his feet again in some flip move that looked like it belonged to Jet Li. He'd just gotten his hands around a 6 inch knife when Ranger crashed into him again, head and shoulders down slamming both of them back into the half open door of the foyer with a resounding bang that shoved the bag outside into the hall, slammed the door shut and muffled both men's painful grunts at the impact as they crashed to the ground again. Ranger was punching, Anton was punching, Ranger threw up a leg in a kick that took Anton in the ribs with his entire shin. Anton had Ranger's hair in his hands and head butted him and I was screaming at both of them.

Ranger was bleeding, Anton was bleeding, a knife from somewhere when sailing across the room and embedded itself in the drywall near the picture frame of a pretty mountain scene and I realized they were going to kill each other. I raced across the room to my purse on the bar and dug around inside it, I couldn't shoot them, my hand closed around the gun I'd used on Hal the day before. The light was still green thank God.

They were both on the ground Ranger on his back his arm locked around Anton neck both legs wrapped around his waist and Anton was looking a little purple. I moved forward and before I could get within five feet Anton was smashing Ranger's head against the tile floor of the entry way with his body. I didn't think I just dived forward and pressed the stun gun to Anton's stomach and pulled the trigger. The volts shot through both their bodies locking muscles and rolling their eyes back in their heads in a horrifying moment and then they both went limp and I realized the gun was dead, but at least they weren't.

I rolled Anton off of Ranger's chest and checked his neck for a heartbeat before checking Anton's neck the same way. Both alive. I breathed a sigh of relief and then tossed the stun gun away towards the kitchen since it was useless anyway. I fished in Ranger's pocket until I found his phone and scrolled through the screens to get to his text messages before hastily typing the hotel name and suite number with specific instructions—trying to make them as curt and straightforward as possible hoping It sounded like Ranger had written it then I hit send.

I had an hour, at least. And there was no way the stun gun was going to effect them for that long. It was entirely possible if they both woke up, or one of them woke up first they wouldn't go back to simply killing each other again, Ranger's hair was loose from Anton grabbing it during the fight, there was a cut near his hair line that wasn't bleeding too badly, and his right cheekbone was already starting to swell. Anton looked worse. He'd probably have two black eyes in an hour his nose might be broken and his lip was split. I hadn't even looked at the rest of them. There were huge cracks in the drywall on both sides of the room where it looked like bodies had slammed into the wall and on one side had found the two by four stud behind it I winced wondering who's back had hit that and trying to remember seeing it—but it was all a blur it happened so fast.

Ranger groaned and I knew I was running out of time I raced to the kitchen and grabbed my handcuffs and raced back to Anton's body, rolling him over onto his stomach with a grunt of effort and securing his hands behind his back, then I raced to the bedroom closet and grabbed two more sets of cuffs. I handcuffed Ranger's hands in front of him—knowing he could get out of them with very little effort but I was afraid to move him too much in case he was seriously injured, I just needed to make sure he didn't wake up and kill Anton in the first two seconds of consciousness. I was already in deep shit from the way they'd destroyed the hotel suite. I frowned at Anton's still prone form, he'd taken the largest hit of volts since he'd been the primary one to get stunned, I probably shouldn't have rolled him over but I couldn't do much about it now that it was done.

I picked up Ranger's cell again, and noted the quick response to my first message before adding a second hoping it didn't inspire a line of questions or worse a phone call from the big man—one word out of my mouth and Tank would know it wasn't Ranger who messaged him and he'd probably have half of Rangeman knocking on the suite door. He answered almost immediately with a simple _Affirmative in route_, nothing more. Man of few words even in Text I guess. I set the phone down and shackled Anton's ankles together using the third pair of handcuffs I had and then I did my best to check them for massive injuries like broken bones, and knife wounds. They didn't appear to have either, thank god.

I got up off the floor and opened the door to the suite grabbing Anton's bag from the hallway and checking up and down the corridor surprised that no one seemed drawn by the noise, and grateful at the same time. I pulled the bag inside and shut the door lugging it a few feet from both men so I could set it on the floor and sift through the contents. Two guns, some clothes, a manila envelope with paperwork inside, I pulled it open and flipped through it until I noted the seal on top and the words confidential. Woops. Guess freelance wasn't the only thing Anton was doing when he went out of town.

I stuffed that folder back into the bag praying that some black ops team didn't show up to shoot me in the head and found another manila envelope in the very bottom of the bag this one contained Passports, four of them, all with my photo and different names, each passport paper clipped to a clear plastic zip-lock bag containing photo ID and credit cards, there was even a library card with one and a hand written punch card for a local Boston cupcake establishment, I wondered if it was real for a split second and then realized it probably was; Anton took my fake covers very seriously it was part of the reason they'd worked so well before. It was in all the little details he built in like this card, and the library card—exactly the kind of crap you'd find in a normal wallet. I pulled two of the ID's out and stuffed the passports in with the ID's and cards so they wouldn't get separated and stuffed them in my bag, then I stowed another one in the underwear drawer of my closet and the third under the sink in the bathroom between two stacked towels. It wasn't that I didn't trust Tank and the guys, or even Ranger—but I had _no idea_ how this was going to play out and Anton had taught me to be careful, always leave myself an option for escape.

I moved back into the living room and grabbed the stun gun to plug the battery pack back in on the kitchen counter, then I sat down on the floor with my back to the wall close enough that I could reach Ranger the second he was awake.

Now I just had to wait.

* * *

_**TBC...**_


End file.
